Orchid
by Ariana Lussier
Summary: Ever wonder just what exactly was the final straw for Prince Nuada regarding the humans? Perhaps there has been more than one. An exploration of Nuada and Wink's time in exile, and a look at the many things that motivate Prince Nuada to do what he does.
1. Prologue

Orchid  
by Ariana Lussier

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**Disclaimer:** _Oh I wish!! No, not mine, just borrowing them. I'll put them back when I'm done. Honest. Rating subject to change, depending on how my mood is while I'm writing subsequent chapters._

**Author's notes:** _Takes place some time (centuries) before Hellboy 2. This is the first part of what I hope will be a multi-part story. I will be posting illustrations for this online and will add the URLs to this story when they're ready._

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Nuada was in trouble.

Silverlance, Prince of Elfland and Defender of Bethmoora eyed his opponent during a brief pause in their engagement, gauging for weaknesses or gaps in defense. He was a crafty warrior, with millennia of experience fighting battles behind him, yet this one foe managed to stymie him at every turn. Already they had been at this for much of the morning and Nuada's bare torso was lightly slicked with sweat. He shifted his weight forward ever so slightly, changing his balance on the balls of his booted feet. Black silk was swathed closely to his legs, with only a single crimson sash at his waist. He was taking no chances that anything might impede his movements.

Eyes the color of human blood stared at him, narrowed in similar speculation. Other than that, his enemy gave no sign or movement that might indicate fatigue or waning morale.

In a blur of sudden motion, his enemy rushed at him, moving too quickly for human - and most Elven - eyes to see. He somersaulted backwards, sacrificing some ground to gain a tactical advantage and dropped in a low spin. His weapon flashed out to catch the brash attacker. Incredibly fast, his foe ducked under the haft of his spear instead and darted behind him. Nuada's head jerked back suddenly with a sharp pain. "Ow!!"

He rubbed his scalp and turned to look at the little cilfa'lir. She chirred smugly, a few strands of his silver-white hair in her tiny hands. "How many times must I ask," he said to her, his tone low and mock-dangerous, "not the hair?"

She giggled and chirred again, offering the strands to him with an expression on her vaguely elfin face that could be apologetic, if not for the mirth curving her tiny lips. Except for her, only Wink had ever thought to make a grab for Nuada's hair during practices. Unlike the miniature fairy, though, the two times Wink had actually managed to catch Nuada's hair, he'd damn near torn chunks out of the royal scalp. There was no better teacher than the pain of experience to make one much more adept at avoiding problems. Nuada took the hairs as she hovered before his face and discarded them with a shake of his fingers.

The cilfa'lir lit upon his shoulder and chittered quietly, her face softening with the beginnings of genuine apology. She patted his cheek, her fingers tickling his skin like the breath of a flower, then reached for the hair that fell over his shoulder. Her nimble fingers wove tiny braids into it, making vines in his hair. He reached up and stroked her wings with a gentle fingertip. "I know, little one," he said, a hint of a smile creeping into his features. "I trust I didn't hurt you, did I?"

She scoffed musically and swatted at his finger, teasing him for his large size. He chuckled, "No, I suppose not. Did I at least touch you?"

Her face grew serious as she thought about it, then nodded and chirred again, gesturing towards her spindly legs.

"Three times?" he repeated with a bit of pleased surprise. "It's good to know I'm improving." Sparring, as it were, with the tiny fey had noticeably improved his reflexes and reaction time.

The flower fairy made a rude sound to accompany her expression and he laughed. "What - all I can do is improve? Do you really think so poorly of my skill?"

She nodded emphatically, her scarlet eyes rich with mischief. The fairy left his shoulder, her petal wings fluttering to keep herself aloft as he sighed dramatically and fell back onto the ground, one hand on his chest as if his heart were broken. "What now, for the valiant Prince of Elfland?" he cried plaintively. "To be defeated utterly by so miniscule a maid, what choice now but long, lonely exile into the barren depths of the north?"

She laughed then, the sweet, high sound no louder than a hum. The fluttering of her wings changed and slowed as she drifted down to land on his chest. She sat down, resting her feet on an old scar he'd gotten while fighting humans long ago. The grass on the gentle slope was soft against his back, but had long since turned brown with the approach of winter. Already he could taste the first hint of crispness in the air, the first warning of snow before the land went to sleep. It was why he was here now, after all.

Nuada laced his fingers behind his head, looking down at his diminutive friend. She was one of a type of fairy that was united to a flower - in her case, a hauntingly lovely orchid. The flower's main ribbonlike petals were snow-white, like her wings and skin, and the minor petals were a vivid ruby, like her eyes and the edges of the petals crowning her tiny head. The very center was so dark a red as to be mistaken for black, threading lighter ruby hues along the base of each white petal. The cilfa'lir's features were not as well-defined as his own or those of most other fairies, appearing to be soft suggestions rather than clearly sculpted, but there was no mistaking the cheerful smile she gave him.

Her voice chirred again, the same echoing whisper that flowers use to speak to each other when no one else is around.

"I know," he replied, "winter comes more swiftly than it used to." She nodded with a sigh and he reached out to touch her shoulder. She responded by nuzzling her face against his fingertip. For all of her speed, she was tiny and delicate; the continuing troubles with humans had many of the wee fairies badly frightened and she was no exception. It comforted her a great deal for him to visit when winter approached, and to stay with her until she and her flowers slept so that she wouldn't be alone. Nuada regarded her tiny form with reddish-gold eyes, watching the play of sunlight along her petal skin.

Centuries ago, he'd been tracking a nomadic tribe of humans, shadowing them, watching what they did to the world around them. His father insisted that not all humans were so corrupt as to destroy everything, but even the King of Elfland could not deny that there was infinite potential within the humans to do exactly that. Nuada had been weighing whether or not to quietly exterminate the tribe before they ravaged the land, or bow his head once more to his father's truce and let them live, when the faint sounds of enraged profanity had drawn his attention.

His spear had surged into his hand and he'd sped in that direction, his passage disturbing nothing - not the blades of grass nor the surface of the water as he crossed to the other island. He left the humans for the time being, his attention focused on the voice. The profanity was in a rough dialect of Troll, and each word was accompanied by the breathless wheezing of a fight. One of his people was in trouble, and the Defender of Bethmoora had responded.

As he'd topped a rise overlooking a tranquil glade near a river outlet to the sea, he saw the source of the noise: a garpin - male, Nuada realized from the elongated arms and the bricklike skin - was slashing wildly at the air with his stubby fingers. The stream of profanity garbled out of its throat like a wooden bucket dragged across gravel. The garpin flinched back, apparently from nothing, slapping at its flattened face with one hand and scratching viciously before swiping at the air again.

For a moment, the prince could only stare. _What in...?_

Then he saw a pale flicker dart from behind the garpin's head. He squinted to try to see it better, not quite certain what it was in the darkness. He approached more slowly, his head cocked a little to one side as he studied the tiny shape, trying to discern what it was as it darted hither and fro. As he got closer, he realized that the flicker was another fey, and it was tormenting the garpin mercilessly.

At last, he caught a clear glimpse of it in the blur as it flew up to the garpin's face. Tiny twin handfuls of grass were shoved unceremoniously up the garpin's nose and the stone-skinned troll slapped at its own face again. The fairy - a cilfa'lir, he'd realized - barely avoided being crushed and flew out of reach once more. It - no, she - vanished into the high grasses edging the river and came back, her angry chirring like the high-pitched buzz of a furious bee. While the garpin was still trying to dig the weeds out of his small nostrils with fingers too thick for the openings, the cilfa'lir aimed her new weapon, a spear made from a long slender splinter, directly at the garpin's ear canal.

"What's going on here?" Nuada demanded.

His voice rang out into the night, accustomed to commanding nobles in echoing halls of alabaster, and both fey halted in surprise. The garpin recovered his wits first, however, and snatched the cilfa'lir as the latter gaped at Nuada. The troll grunted with satisfaction and shuffled its feet in what Nuada could only guess was a victory jig. The troll clapped his other hand over the first and the cilfa'lir let out a high, shrill scream of terror. The sound seemed to activate every muscle in Nuada's body at once and he charged forward. "Stop!" he barked, catching the troll's wrist before he pulverized the fairy. "What insanity is this?"

The garpin yanked his wrist free and garbled, his voice rough and angry. He jabbed a blunt finger at the fairy in his other hand, then waved at the air all around him. Nuada sighed. "Look at her, you fool."

The troll did, peering at the fairy with his three muddy brown eyes. His sloped shoulders rose and fell in a shrug and he turned his gaze back to Nuada, garbling a question.

"She's a cilfa'lir," Nuada explained, trying to be patient. He felt a strange sense of echoing as he found himself repeating what Nuala had taught him of these small fey. The garpin looked at him blankly and Nuada reminded himself not to grind his teeth. "A flower fairy. Look around yourself."

The garpin turned around, looking at the ground. Right away, Nuada could see the likely source of the fairy's anger: the smashed remains of a white and red flower peeked out from under the garpin's left big toe. The significance was lost on the troll, who gave the prince another blank look. Again, Nuada unclenched his teeth. It was not unheard of for fey creatures to be so rare or so unnoticeable that most other denizens of Elfland had no knowledge of them. However, flower fairies were not rare and while their tiny size often meant they were overlooked, their beauty was by no means unnoticeable.

Then again, garpin were not known to be the brightest of the troll bloodlines. Nuada tried again, "You crushed one of her flowers; that's why she attacked you." Cilfa'lir were linked to their flowers and each blossom that was harmed pained the cilfa'lir as if she had taken the wounds herself. Fortunately, so long as there was even one of that fairy's flower left, a cilfa'lir could not die.

The troll snorted and garbled again, this time indignantly. Apparently, the tiny fairy had embarrassed him by being so difficult to catch and smash. The other trolls would laugh at him.

"Then that is something you will have to endure," Nuada replied, "as a lesson to be more careful in the future. You cannot murder another fey simply for defending her home."

The fist tightened a little as the garpin growled, his opinion quite to the contrary. The cilfa'lir squeaked as the fist tightened and battered at the rocklike hand with her own delicate ones. "Enough!" Nuada spat, his temper finally besting his diplomacy. "What honor do you hope to regain by killing one so much smaller and weaker than yourself?"

More troll profanity, including one creative phrase that Nuada had not personally ever heard, but made a mental note to remember for the future. He scowled at the garpin and took a menacing step forward. A fair fight between fey he would not interfere with, but this was needlessly cruel and, in the strictest sense, the troll was the one in the wrong. As a prince, the safety of all of his people, no matter how grand or small, was his personal concern.

"What manner of creature," Nuada growled, balling up the shredded remains of his patience and batting them far away, "cheapens his honor with torture? Are you-" he searched for a sufficiently scathing insult, "-a _human_?"

The garpin snarled in response.

"Release her now," Nuada commanded, "or it will be my blade you face, not hers."

Those muddy brown eyes skipped over to Nuada's hand, holding the shining lance in a deceptively relaxed grip. The light of the crescent moon glimmered white on the silvered head, softening to gray on the crest etched into the blade. It was Nuada's personal crest, and as universally recognized by the fey as his sister's or his father's. Those eyes widened suddenly as the not-too-bright troll finally put two and two together. He garbled again, a distinct whine under the trollish words and held one hand out in a plea. The other hand opened and the cilfa'lir shot free, hovering over the garpin for a moment to shrill her fury at him before arrowing into the tall grasses. The troll growled deep in its throat and took a step in that direction.

Nuada cleared his throat warningly. Red-gold eyes locked with muddy brown and held them. The garpin slouched a little and looked away first, bowing his head to the prince before lumbering along his way. Nuada watched him go, disappointed that the garpin did not provoke a fight, and yet at the same time pleased that no violence had been necessary.

He would not have killed the garpin, but thrashing him soundly was another matter.

Nuada watched the troll leave. Possibly, with that kind of intelligence, the troll was well on his way to forgetting the matter altogether. As the figure of the garpin receded into the night, Nuada finally turned towards the grasses where the cilfa'lir had fled. "He's gone, little one, you can come ou-"

Something whipped across his face, stinging his cheek and nose. He yelped and flinched, one hand flying up to the smarting line across his skin. He glared up at the flower fairy that fluttered just out of reach. She had a long weed with bristled seed pods on the end and was brandishing it like a battle-lance. "Are you mad?" he snapped. "By what right do you-"

She chittered furiously, her ruby eyes almost glowing with rage. One tiny finger jabbed downwards accusingly, and his eyes followed it down to see...

Oh.

Another of those red and white flowers lay broken against the grass, partially covered by his boot. He lifted his foot carefully and stepped back, keeping one eye on the fairy and the weed she wielded. It took him the better part of the night to calm her down, first from her anger at his own clumsiness, then her frustrated rage at the garpin. However, after that, she had settled quietly on his shoulder, extremely happy to play with his hair while they talked. In one night, he learned more of the cilfa'lir than his twin had ever taught him.

Nuada smiled as the memory replayed itself. The cilfa'lir looked at him curiously and chirred. He stroked the tiny petals on her head and said, "Only a remembrance of our meeting, little one."

The crimson jewels of her eyes blinked twice, then she giggled. Her voice chirred again as she waggled a finger at him.

"Oh, I agree I deserved your anger, but did you have to slap me with a weed?" he chuckled. "I had some sympathy for that troll, afterwards. It was quite embarrassing."

Her chin lifted and she crossed her thin arms, scolding him gently.

"Well, I am much more careful now about where my feet are," Nuada said. She chirred again and grinned, turning to hug his finger tightly, expressing her pride that he could learn so simple a thing. Perhaps there was hope for the big ones after all.

"Cheeky little blossom," he snorted.

Cilfa'lir, like their flowers, sleep during the winter. Some rare fairies are keepers of those flowers that bloom in the snow, and so they remain awake, but most of them curl up in one of their flowers and turn dormant during the cold season. When exactly a cilfa'lir goes to sleep, and awakens, depends on their flower. Nuada lay on the grass, chatting with his friend as the sun sank below the horizon. The twilight brought with it the cooling breeze of night, but the warmth of autumn had faded in favor of the heralding chill of winter.

She moved gradually up his chest as they chatted until she was tucked against his neck under his hair. Nuada continued to talk, bringing up any subject that came to mind, until her wings began to droop and her chirring was interrupted by yawns. He gently picked her up in his hand and stood, glancing around for one of the orchids to lay her in. The fairy chirred again sleepily and curled up in his palm, snuggling up to the spear-calloused mound at the base of his thumb.

He frowned slightly, seeing none of her flowers at first and it disturbed him. Perhaps it was because of the winters that came sooner and lasted longer, but for whatever cause, the orchids she kept seemed to limit themselves to a very small area near a tiny spring of warm water. Nuada searched the ground, stepping more and more carefully the closer he got to the spring. Finally, near the spring itself, he finally found a cluster of the orchids. Most of them had already closed their petals reflexively against the cold. He knelt down beside the largest one, which still held its petals open, and asked, "Will this one do?"

Her eyes blinked open and she looked. Her petal wings fluttered softly and she nodded with a smile. He held his hand steady, helping her with the other hand to the orchid. With a yawn, she curled up in its black center, her petals blending in with the flower's until the orchid simply looked like a fancier bloom than its brethren. As he watched, the petals began to slowly draw closed around the sleeping fairy.

"Dream sweetly," he whispered to her. "We will play again when the sun warms the earth once more."


	2. Chapter 1

_AN: Fast-forward about 400 years, give or take, to a few years before Hellboy 2. Prince Nuada is on the trail of the crown piece. 7/24 - minor edits, mostly polishing.  
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The strident horn of the subway sliced through the air, just before a gust of false wind carrying the stink of their machinery sent strands of his hair into his mouth. Nuada silently spit them back out again, waiting for the break between public transits. He watched the subway grind to a halt, his dark lips twisting in disgust at this creation of the humans. Crafted conduits in the earth, but unlike the passages that were lovingly sculpted by the trolls, these were like the tunnels left in decaying flesh by borer worms. Tunnels left in the decaying flesh of the Mother.

His stare burned with momentary anger in the shadowed pits of his eyes. The anger was quickly tamped down.

An electronic voice bounced off the white tiled walls of the subway. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered with the announcement of the subway's arrival and destination, as if the wiring couldn't handle both light and sound at the same time. Herds of humans shuffled out of the cars as the doors slid open in a pneumatic hiss, and herds of humans shuffled in. Heads down, avoiding making eye contact with anything around them. Humans had turned into placid cattle in the last few decades. It actually made it easier for Nuada to move about without wasting power on hiding himself from sight.

San Francisco was a festering pit, and the sooner he and Wink could put this wretched land behind them, the better. Nuada waited patiently, clad in black from chin to toe, with only his face and hair to give him away in the shadow of a support pillar. However, he had no fear that any of the cattle would look in his direction. They barely looked in the direction they were heading. As the subway began to move, he sidled along the wall around the landing platform. Once the subway was well on its way down the tunnel, before more humans arrived to wait for the next mechanical worm, he dropped down to the tracks and headed the opposite direction.

Far down the tunnel, far enough that he had to flatten himself against a crumbling concrete wall to avoid another arriving train, a passage opened up in the side of the tunnel leading to the maintenance conduits. From there, a slimy slope led to a heavy steel grate that he easily lifted with one hand, dropping down and catching the ladder below as he lowered the grate without a sound. The ladder stabbed down into nearly pitch blackness, shaking slightly every time the subway roared through the tunnels above.

Lack of light was no concern to his Elven eyes. What he couldn't see, he could hear, and he walked briskly to the den that Wink had fashioned by creatively rearranging supporting blocks. Like the most revered troll artisans, his friend had a rare touch for stone and similar things, and though their den looked precarious, it was actually quite stable.

For now. Wink had told him that the stresses of the subway was telling on the blocks, and they would eventually collapse. Perhaps in ten or twenty human years. Nuada had shrugged lightly, finding not a scrap of himself that cared what would happen to the herds above when it did. Perhaps they should take more pride in crafting their structures, like the trolls, rather than slapping things together and calling it a "job well done."

Whatever disaster befell these humans in ten years gave him no pause; he and Wink would not be here that long. They had been warriors for longer than most human civilizations had existed, and knew the value of patience. Soldiers rushed into battle with little thought beyond their targets - warriors were the true predators of a battlefield. Like wolves on dangerous prey, they used the terrain and their enemy's own weaknesses against them. And like a pack of wolves, they had a plan of attack.

What had begun centuries ago for him as a stray thought had turned into a burning obsession. Nuada had berated himself for not thinking of the obvious sooner, but to do so would have meant defying his father to a degree that he had never before considered. He would not consider it now, if the fate of their people were not in such peril. Balor was aging, but still wise. Tired, but still strong. Fading, but still King.

Distant, but still Father.

He'd locked the stray thought away at first, worried that Nuala might somehow catch it during those nights when he ached for the company of his own kind. Were it not for Wink remaining with him in his self-imposed exile, Nuada was certain he'd go mad. Eventually, though, he couldn't help taking the thought back out and rolling it around in his mind, examining it from every angle and prodding it, much like he might prod a cut on his lip with his tongue until he knew every possible angle of pain and sensation. He had prodded it and turned it about until he knew every nuance of it so well that no permutation of fate or the machinations of others could possibly catch him off-guard.

Four centuries earlier, the stray thought had hardened into a plan. Three small words: the Golden Army, danced before him, shining with the promise of future glory for his people. He was not so arrogant or filled with hate that he plotted to exterminate all of humanity, but the earth would certainly benefit from a decrease in the population. A very significant decrease.

Nuada permitted himself rarely to dream of a world like the one that had died; small human tribes scattered across the world, separated from each other by their fears, while his people - Elf, Ogre, Troll, Fairy, Brownie, Goblin - were all free to be as one with the world again, without being poisoned by human waste or murdered by human ignorance. His hands tightened into fists as his anger at the humans - an integral part of him for as long as he could remember - flared suddenly. With a minimal effort, he pushed the anger back down to where he kept it, deep inside where it served him, not the other way around.

The prince had always had a temper; everyone knew this and few were surprised when he'd left the courts. Many of them no doubt remembered the spoiled child, or the impetuous adolescent, storming to his rooms and slamming the door as hard as he could manage. Nuada had always felt that if he slammed the door hard enough, others would realize how utterly, truly, deeply _angry _he really was, and take him seriously instead of turning politely away from his tantrum.

Unfortunately, not even the time he cracked the door and the frame had gotten their attention. That was when he'd realized, finally, what his weapon masters had been trying to drill into his stubborn head for some time: _When the maneuver no longer works, change the maneuver._

He had begun to practice subsuming his anger, deliberately picking fights with larger fey and older elves and letting them beat him during practices in humiliating ways. He worked to rein in his fury and keep it banked, letting it smolder out of sight while still drawing strength from its heat. The princeling had grown into a much more controlled and somber young prince, which had gratified his father and weapon masters. Nuala, however, had always felt a faint thread of worry at the change in him. He'd reassured her, of course. No matter how vile his temper, or how harsh his words, the love he bore for her was the soothing water to cool his anger. Nuada had thought it strange that he had to tell her what she should have already understood, but Nuala's concern had not been for herself. _Keeping your fire hidden may serve your purposes, brother,_ she'd said in that sweet, breathy voice of hers. _But fire consumes, and when it is locked away, it will devour whatever keeps it confined. I worry about you, Nuada._

No more than he worried about her. She had meant no insult and he had taken none, only kissed her lightly on the forehead and given her a smile, something that few others ever saw from him.

However, because of that locked-away fire, his choice to leave the courts was decidedly not due to his temper. It was purpose, nothing more. Balor had struck a truce with the humans, an action with which Nuada had strongly disagreed. They had already seen humans spreading out across the land like a swarm of locusts. The wars with the humans did not start until humans intruded upon Elven land and refused to retreat or even share. Balor did not understand humans' hollow hearts, yet based his peace and the lives of their people upon them.

The terms were simple: the humans were to stay in the cities and his people would keep to the forests. Even a child could do that, could it not?

Balor thought the humans could. Nuala thought they could. Nuada didn't. Yet his father was not going to listen to what his son had to say - and why would he? Balor was far older and wiser, and more than likely still saw Nuada as a fitful child slamming his door shut. There was only one way to convince Balor, and that was for Nuada to leave, to remove himself from the courts long enough for Balor's memory of his young son to soften with the dust of time. Long enough for Nuada's eventual reappearance to jar with that dusty memory, showing his father the sharp contrast between the child Balor saw him as, and the man he truly was. Only as one adult to another, one warrior to another, could Nuada convince his father to fully accept his counsel.

Secondly, he had to learn the ways of his enemy. Balor had secluded himself within the courts ever since the Army had been sealed away. Humans live brief, bright lives like a flare of the trolls' sparkpowder. They reached out in hunger, not only for raw materials but for inspiration and change. They tired quickly of what they had and were always searching for something new, something more grand or more impressive, or simply more. It would not be very many generations, hardly any time at all for an Elf, before the fabric of human culture and understanding changed. With that change would come other changes. Nuada was not going to hide away and be surprised by them later.

Though doing so felt like swimming in a brackish pond choked with the disgusting effluvia of rot and refuse, he went among them. Shadowing them within their own shadows, he watched and listened. He learned their diverse languages, hating the gutteral sounds and too-simple intonations, but knowing that language was the key to understanding how they thought. Understanding how the humans thought was the key to outmaneuvering them.

He turned into the den, avoiding the one pillar of blocks that Wink had told him was the most precarious. This section of the undertunnels was old, older than most of the "modern" improvements built over the top of it. As a result, the blocks used in the construction here were real stone, not the bastardized amalgamation of sand and cement that the humans used now. The rough surfaces of the blocks were smoothed a little by the passage of time, and moreso by Wink's careful hand whenever the troll stonemaster shaped it a little more to his own liking. The fact that Nuada was surrounded by real stone and not concrete made this den tolerable, but only barely.

Against the back of their lair was a hollowed out firepit, with a raised hearth built from the blocks Wink had liberated from the supports. A small fire burned in the back of the pit, fueled by troll "hot rocks," which burned for very long periods of time at very high temperatures, with no grime or smoke to suffocate the troll using it. The troll market in this region was extensive, and Wink had encountered no problem finding those of his kind who were willing to trade with them.

His friend hunched on the ground beside the squared hearth. Nuada slid his lance, in its halfspear length, from his back and set it against the wall, deliberately letting the silver head clink against the stone. Wink looked up at the sound and nodded in greeting, a small hammer held in the strong fingers of his left hand. Laid out on the hearth were more tools of metalworking: a chisel, polisher, saw and bore. The shiny metal fist of his other arm lay on the hearth, two dents out of what had been several still remaining to be smoothed out of the back of the hand.

"How go the repairs?" Nuada asked.

Wink looked back down and tapped the hammer lightly against the edge of a dent. "Slowly, but well," he replied in a low trill. "I'm afraid my kin's metal meets its match in the natural strength of true stone."

The prince grinned. "You're not losing your touch, are you?"

The troll snorted, "Getting slow in your old age?"

The return sally brought a low chuckle from Nuada. He stripped off his heavy overtunic and shook it out, then folded it twice and laid it on a low shelf made from more support blocks. His undertunic was also black, but sleeveless silk and much more comfortable to wear so close to a fire. Nuada ran his fingers through his hair, pulling it back behind his shoulders and out of his face before settling down on his heels near the much larger troll. His pale face was bathed in gold and orange light from the fire and he gave Wink a broad grin. "I heard them talking today of their Irish inheritance."

Small amber-green eyes blinked and his friend's head turned slowly to look at him, the hammer and dents forgotten. The bristles on his head twitched as his brow furrowed in thoughtful speculation. "The crown piece?"

"It could be no other," Nuada replied, not bothering to restrain his expression of smug triumph. Much of their time in exile, when not studying the enemy, had been spent in searching for the piece of the crown that Balor had gifted to the humans. While unendurably frustrating at first to trace human lines of ancestry through documents, rumor and finally magic, the long search had finally paid off. One human clan by the name of McNeil was the only direct line going back to Lóegaire mac Néill, the last pagan king of Ireland. Lóegaire had been the final surviving heir of the original tribe to whom Balor had entrusted the crown piece.

Unfortunately, the clan of McNeil was scattered throughout the world, largely in America. He and Wink had methodically gone across the country, seeking out every wed- and blood-relative of McNeil. They didn't make themselves known in any way, though Nuada considered once or twice removing some especially revolting descendants from the face of the earth. They spied upon the families they found, alert to any hint of the crown piece. A string of disappointments had finally led them to Thomas McNeil, an investment banker living in San Francisco.

"His wife," and here Nuada used the term lightly, since the woman had three other lovers that he'd seen, "is anxious to leave this city and wants him to "unload" some old family antiques. They argued about it again tonight, and she told him that even if a "half-relic" fetched only half-price, it would still be enough to set them up in luxury in the south of France."

"Half-relic," Wink rumbled. The slit of his mouth quirked in the beginnings of a grin. "Sounds promising."

The prince nodded, permitting himself to indulge in a rare space of satisfaction. It was the most enticing tidbit they'd gleaned in a long time. "The male is going on another business trip. I'll go back there in a few days when he is due to return. I have not the fortitude to listen to that female rutting with her lovers again."

The troll shrugged, his broad muscled shoulders lifting once. "I'll go," he said. "The rutting doesn't bother me, and she may plot with them while her mate is away."

Nuada considered this, then nodded again in agreement. "Very well. I'll not envy you your watch, my friend, but you do have a stronger stomach than I. It would be just like that female to- What is _that_?"

His tone sharpened suddenly as his eyes noticed a slight movement beyond Wink's shoulder, on the other side of the den. Wink didn't turn to look, he only tapped gently on the metal of his fist, coaxing the dent out of the shining surface. "Nothing of consequence, Sire."

The prince scowled; Wink only resorted to formal titles for official functions and when something was up. Nuada stood with fluid grace and walked across the space. He froze in mid-step before he was halfway there.

Huddled in brown and gray rags that blended in with the concrete was a sleeping child. A sleeping _human _child.

"Wink," Nuada said, a warning simmering under his tone. A thousand things flew through his mind, none of them good.

The hammer made a few more chiming taps before Wink finally set it aside. "She followed me home," he said at last.

The banked anger began to flame inside the Elf. "You brought a human here, to our sanctuary?" Disbelief roughened his voice, "Why did you not simply kill it?"

Even as Nuada spoke, he regretted the question. He was a warrior, not a monster, and Wink was alike enough in that regard to be his brother. Wink snorted as he gathered up the tools and replaced them back into their pouch, "Why did you take the human infants to the other tribe after we killed the adults of the settlement?"

"I know full well why I did what I have done," Nuada snapped. He pointed at the small shape, his other hand clenching in a fist. "There is no logic to this, no need or strategy. Having any human here, even a miniature one, is a danger to what we are doing."

Wink shrugged again, his craggy features holding a touch of embarrassment, but not shame. "I found her when I was looking for food to replenish our supplies. Just turned around and she was right there, staring up at me. Been a long time since a human's seen me and not run away screaming."

Nuada resisted the urge to rub a hand over his face. "Small humans have families," he finally said. "You should have frightened it to run back to them."

His friend and bodyguard sighed and shook his large head, giving Nuada a sinking feeling that he might not win this argument without pulling rank. That soft spot the troll had for lesser beings was going to be the death of him some day. "She's alone," Wink said. "Too dirty and skinny to be in the care of parents. I didn't want to frighten her."

"What do you imagine will happen, with that here?" Nuada asked him. "You cannot keep a human for a pet. They are noisy and messy and they smell absolutely foul. You must take it back above."

Under the rags, the shape stirred. The prince's fire-gold eyes shifted back over there, looking away only when it gave a sigh and settled back into sleep. Clutched under one thin, dirty arm was a ragged stuffed unicorn. At one time, it might have been bright pink, but now it was a faded peach color patched with grime.

Seeing the image of one of Elfland's most graceful and nobles creatures mocked in an effigy of synthetic fibers made Nuada's stomach turn over in a wave of nausea. He turned back to Wink. "A stray human is worse than a stray dog," he said, lowering his voice to avoid waking the vermin in the corner again. "Feed it but once, pet it but once, and it will never leave you be."

Wink gave him a mildly abashed look. "I already fed her."

Nuada closed his eyes and counted to ten. Twice. Then again backwards. He stalked back to his pallet on the far side of the lair and dropped down on it with an ill temper.

"Couldn't help but hear her stomach growling when she was looking up at me," his friend added.

The prince's lips compressed into a thin line; having a human nearby left a loathsome taste in his mouth. But it was a child, it was helpless, and it was asleep. His honor was too strong to sit easily upon the thought of simply dispatching the creature while in such a state. And Wink had fed it. Nuada's teeth clenched hard and he rubbed his temples with the heels of both hands. Why in the name of the Four had Wink gone and _fed _it?

"Very well," Nuada finally said, his words edged with precisely how displeased he was. "But your pet is your concern. I will have nothing to do with it. And the moment it makes a mess in here, or makes too much noise, you will take it back above and release it somewhere. Maybe the park. I don't care, as long as it isn't here."

His friend nodded, the bulky shoulders drooping a little in relief.

"And if it gets into my things, I'll toss it into a passing garbage truck," Nuada added. His earlier good mood was gone, and in its place was a sizzling irritation and sense of having his hands tied. Despite his harsh words, chances were that he would not release the human simply anywhere into the city. Better than any Elf, he knew what humans did to each other, especially to the weak ones. If she was truly alone...

He shook his head sharply and lay down for sleep, banishing the thought before it began to form. It was not his place, nor Wink's, to take responsibility for every human brat. It was not their place to take responsibility for even one.

"I'll teach her to behave," Wink said.

"Make sure it's housebroken too," Nuada replied sourly.


	3. Chapter 2

_AN: This is about eight months later. There's been some bad luck with the crown piece and Prince Nuada is trying to deal with having a human in his territory. My apologies for the flow; I constantly reread and edit my stories, so anything that's rough will be polished soon. I've also used italics to indicate when Nuada and Wink are speaking in languages other than the human one.  
_

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Nuada sat in the shadowed corner beside the firepit, watching the two figures before him with slitted gold eyes. One was a hulking cave troll, lesser nobility by blood, but greater by far in soul. The other was a dirty, underfed human girl-child. Nuada guessed that her age fell somewhere between eight and twelve winters, though he wasn't certain exactly where.

If not for his mood, the scene before him could almost be comical. Nuada thought it was ridiculous. Wink was bent over almost double, his hands looking even more massive as he carefully corrected the child's grip on a miniature stone hammer that he'd made for her. A low rumble came from the troll's throat as he spoke quietly, instructing her how to better set her feet for the weapon's balance. For these past few months she'd been a quiet, watchful little shadow to Wink. Nuada had been pleased, somewhat, that she remained silent much of the time, but it irritated him at the same time that he could not, by his own words, get rid of her. She'd managed to avoid doing anything to really annoy the prince, other than simply breathing.

They'd lost their lead on the crown piece. McNeil had returned from his business trip early and caught his wife in their bed with two of her lovers. The divorce case was extremely hostile, and was being dragged out in the human courts with the media gleefully devouring every sordid detail. However, because of the humans' obsession with possessions, their joint assets - including, according to human law, the crown piece - were to be "frozen," or rather mysteriously inaccessible to either McNeil or his wife until the courts decided how the items were to be distributed between the two. Adding to the mess was the fact that McNeil had something the humans called a "prenuptial agreement" and that his soon-to-be-ex wife apparently had neglected to entirely negate two previous marriages. The whole matter had turned into a chaotic mess that the prince couldn't even hope to understand.

Meanwhile, he had very few options, with the crown piece so maddeningly close and yet utterly unreachable. He'd briefly toyed with the notion of simply stealing it, but apparently McNeils had stored most of their valuables, such as the crown piece, in high-security Swiss bank deposit boxes. Nuada wasn't even certain the piece was still in this country, and that speculation had truly soured his disposition for the foreseeable future. It appeared as though everything that could possibly complicate the situation had done so. He blamed the human pet.

It was irrational, he knew, but so was sulking in a human sewer, and yet he had nothing better to do. Aside from his daily sparring with Wink and the occasional hunt for supplies, Nuada was bored and restless, much like a caged lion. He didn't want to skulk among the despised humans, and he didn't want to be down here. He had extended his weapon practices, but it still wasn't enough. He needed to stay active, either physically or mentally; remaining idle for long periods had a tendency to bring a flood of memories, not all of them pleasant.

Plus, it was his turn to cook again. He was avoiding that, in spite of his hunger. Wink's prodigious appetite could be satisified with a great many things that Elves and even most humans wouldn't touch, but there wasn't much selection in human foods that appealed to Nuada's palate.

Maybe he could go to the troll market and bring back something instead...

Under Wink's guidance, the human lifted the hammer, losing her balance briefly as it came up to her shoulder, then stumbling forward with the clumsy swing. The small stone head smacked into Wink's hand as the troll caught it and steadied the girl. He patiently explained again, his voice roughening the edges of the human tongue still further, how she had to keep her balance.

"The earth calls to you here," he said, gently poking a finger into her stomach. "Keep your legs between the earth and this anchor, and your balance will take care of itself."

She nodded solemnly, lifting the hammer to try again. Tangled, dirty brown hair hung in snarls around her face, the plain features smeared with dirt. The eyes were an indistinct shade between green and brown, and despite being large in her face, were unremarkable in any way, particularly when it came to seeing in the dimness. Her eyebrows drew together in concentration and she puffed out a breath as she swung the hammer again.

Again, Wink caught it with a meaty smack. This time, however, she hadn't lost her balance. "Better," Wink rumbled, drawing a brief flash of a grin from the child. "Now, what you've done so far is called 'striking behind', and you'll need to do that in battle. But in practice, and in learning how to handle your weapons, you have to strike in front."

She frowned, her expression confused under the grime. The troll tried again.

"Here, where you hit my hand... your whole body went into that swing," he said, his voice still low. He was capable of a full-belly roar that could carry over valleys and up the mountains bordering them, and to speak this quietly was akin to whispering. "You were aiming for a target here, behind my hand. That is called striking behind."

Nuada scratched his neck. This was more than ridiculous, it was pathetic. Still, he owed his friend a great deal for remaining with him in exile, and letting Wink amuse himself with a human pet seemed a small price to pay. Except for the fleas.

"As you work on your form, how you move while you fight," Wink continued, "you will strike the front. Here is my hand, but your target is here," he pointed with a thick finger, "just in front of it. Do not let your hammer go past this spot."

Now the child looked worried. She nodded again and hefted the hammer, then swung it. The arc was much more wobbly than before as she tried to pull the blow. The head of the hammer smacked into Wink's palm again, and she looked crestfallen. "That's why you practice," Wink said gently. "You practice how to fight under any condition, so that no matter when you are weary or wounded or disoriented, you can still fight."

"Fight who?" she asked.

Nuada's eyes slitted open a little more, one eyebrow lifting. She was not mute after all. Pity.

"Who you fight is not as important as what you fight for," Wink said. "If you concern yourself with your enemy, then the reason why you are fighting begins to pale and you will lose your strength. Now, strike again, and this time, do not let the hammer touch my hand."

The farce continued for some time. Nuada kept reminding himself that he had to go to the troll market, yet found a touch of morbid fascination in watching the human stumble about with a shrunken battle-hammer. Wink kept up his gruff encouragement; correcting her gently when she erred and quick to speak when she did something right. It brought back memories of when he and Wink trained under the weapon masters. One in particular, an Elf named Taruno, had been merciless in drilling the young prince and his personal guard, but despite his cutting words when they failed to excel, he was the first to praise them when they did.

Nuada sighed. He'd been idle for too long. He stood, uncoiling each muscle slowly as he did so, ending the motion with a stretch. Wink's eyes skipped over to him, though the human continued to focus her attention on the hammer and the troll's hand. "_I'm going out_," he said bluntly in the Elven tongue. "_The air here is beginning to reek more than usual._"

Wink nodded, showing no surprise at the lingual switch. Though they disliked the human tongue, they conversed in it as often as possible to remain adept at understanding human speech. "_She has asked me if she can help_," he said, obeying Nuada's unspoken instruction and switching to Troll.

"_Help with what?_" Nuada replied, an edge of a sneer to the question. The lyrical words of his native language were a little roughened by his long usage of human speech and it annoyed him.

Wink shrugged. "_She's small and can get into spaces we can't. Maybe she can scavenge supplies?_"

The prince shook his head dismissively. "_Whatever. As long as she doesn't bring any vermin back here. Especially not more humans._" The fact that Wink was showing infinite patience with the child and teaching her - actually _teaching _her - how to fight suggested to Nuada that his friend might very well want to keep his pet for a while. He could tolerate that, but when the time came for them to move on, Wink was going to have to get rid of the human. She'd be useless weight to them.

"_I'll go with her and show her what is of use_," the troll replied. "_Scavenging is not the work of a prince._"

The Elf nodded curtly and left, ignoring the sounds as Wink returned to his instruction. When he returned hours later, his own appetite was behaving reasonably well. One of the vendors had been selling fresh skyfins and he'd indulged in a chilled, spicy fillet while shopping. Nuada carried a small crate against his back, holding it with one hand by its handle over his shoulder. The contents inside shifted with a vaguely wet sound as he walked.

A sack was slung over his other shoulder, the edges of the items within occasionally poking into his hip as he strode down the tunnels to their den. Wink's metalworking bore had finally sheared off its head, leaving the troll with nothing to make holes in metal. Nuada had found a replacement, and also some stoneworking tools the troll had requested. He'd been unable to resist getting additional rayskin straps; all the extra weaponswork was beginning to show on the edges of the straps that wound around the haft of his lance.

Arriving at home, so to speak, Nuada lowered the crate onto the hearth, hearing the contents slither against each other again. The sack was set next to the crate, after he'd dug out the new straps, and he went back to his pallet to replace the grip on his spear. Wink and his pet were not there, and Nuada settled down with his spear to enjoy the stretch of silence. The new rayskin was set to soak in some relatively clean water while he painstakingly picked apart the old straps, unwinding them carefully down the length of the haft.

Once the fraying straps had been stripped away, he took one of the new ones and set the tip of it against the end of the grip. His smallest dagger's tip worked the strap under the edge of the gold-chased pommel, then repeated the process with three more of the narrow strips. Holding the halfspear with the head down, he wound the straps tightly around the haft, crisscrossing them in an intricate pattern. Water from the soaked rayskin dribbled down his hands and the head of the spear and he paused in the pattern twice to shake the drops away.

Another set of straps was needed to finish wrapping the haft, and he wove them into the pattern so that the ends were covered and no eye, not even his, could honestly tell where the straps began and ended.

He was nearly done when the heavy sounds of Wink's tread and the lighter pattering of the human's came to him. Nuada finished sliding a tip of rayskin into place, glancing up briefly to see the two returning. The indistinct sounds of a low conversation preceded them as well. The bits of words wound into Nuada's awareness, tickling his sense of not-quite-right, but before he could really analyze what it was, the child looked right at him. As soon as she saw him, she dashed away from Wink and ran up to Nuada; Wink reached out a hand to stop her, but was just a bit too slow. The child offered Nuada her prize, proudly presenting to him what she'd managed to acquire in his absence.

In her grimy hands lay a hot dog buried in toppings - ketchup, mustard, relish, onions, sauerkraut and eggplant - contained more or less in a white paper boat. She grinned broadly and said, "We got you one too!"

He stared at her, his eyes turned to pale yellow ice. That thing, and the sauerkraut especially, was one of the most disgusting things he'd seen in some time.

Several long seconds passed in frosted silence. The child's smile began to fade.

Nuada could have been a statue carved from snow.

The girl took a slow step back, an expression of wary panic replacing the initial joy. The hot dog was withdrawn from him as she retreated, and he let his glare bore into her and continue driving her back. Finally, she ducked behind Wink to escape him. Nuada moved that flat stare up to meet the troll's.

"_Don't ever let that happen again_," he said tonelessly in Elven. Wink nodded silently.

With a muffled sound that might have been a sob, the child fled to the far corner, tucking herself as tightly into the niche as she could. The troll glanced that way briefly before gesturing at the crate and sack. "_Did you get cheated again?_" Wink asked, an undercurrent of teasing in his Trollish words. If he meant to discuss this matter with his prince, it was going to be later, not now.

Nuada's lips twitched as a smile tried to come out. His expression warmed once again and he shook his head. "_Not this time, my friend. I think I'm getting better at bartering with your kin_."

Wink snorted. "_Hard for you to get worse_," he said. Behind him, the human still cried, though the sound was very quiet. It almost didn't bother Nuada at all.

"_You may think differently once you see the tools_," Nuada replied. He motioned to the crate as well and added, "_They had some salted nekthel also._"

The troll's bristles twitched in interest and he regarded the crate with a hungry look. His metal hand pried off the crate lid with no difficulty and the other hand reached in to pull out an eelskin-wrapped packet. He unwrapped the end of it and sniffed it experimentally. Nekthel were common, six-legged vermin somewhat resembling a scaly mongoose. They could be found in many caves and quite a few trolls developed a liking for them. Wink was no exception. "_Pickled while still alive, excellent_," he rumbled his appreciation. He replaced the lid of the crate and took a crunchy bite of the desiccated food as he inspected the tools Nuada had picked out with a critical eye. "_Any luck finding grapes at the market this time?_" the troll asked casually.

Nuada shook his head, returning his attention to the spear. The human's crying eventually silenced itself as he finished tucking the last bit of rayskin into place. Wink continued to chat, ignoring his pet for the time being, while Nuada stood and gave the spear a few brief spins, testing the feel of the new grip. His eyes flickered back to the other side of the den only once, as the child crawled out of her hiding place and ran down the tunnel in the direction from which she and Wink had come earlier.

If the troll noticed her departure, he didn't acknowledge it. Nuada shrugged it off with a touch of relief; if the human ran away on her own, then he wouldn't have to order Wink to give up his pet. The new grip seemed secure in his hands, and he put his halfspear through a complicated set of flourishes. "Feel like a bit of mild practice?" he asked the troll, switching back to human speech since the brat was no longer present. He moved the weapon lightly from one hand to the other.

Wink chortled, popping the rest of the nekthel into his mouth. "What is it about Human and Elven that makes "mild practice" sound like "merciless beating"?" he asked.

Nuada's dark lips quirked in a grin; Wink was already getting to his feet, the fingers of his metal hand flexing as the troll gave Nuada an answering grin, accepting the challenge. "I'm not sure," the Elf replied airily. "Quite possibly the same linguistic anomaly that causes both phrases to be interchangeable in Troll as well."

"Loser cooks for the rest of the week?" Wink asked.

"Are you trying to punish me or yourself?" Nuada laughed. When he cooked, Wink often couldn't eat his fill. When Wink cooked, Nuada often couldn't eat more than a few bites before his willpower surrendered to revulsion. Troll stomachs were far hardier than Elven ones. His comrade never passed up the opportunity to tease him for, what was compared to a troll's, delicate tastes.

Wink shrugged slightly, opening his arms as if to indicate the answer could go either way. Nuada's muscles tensed in anticipation; he'd been on the wrong end of this manuever too many times. With a sudden grunt and whistle of air across metal, that mechanical arm rocketed towards him, and he dodged to the side, dropping into a sideways roll that took him through a rivulet of slimy water and across the tunnel, coming up in a ready crouch. Cold dribbles went down Nuada's legs and backside, and he resisted the urge to brush the water off himself. Wink gave his prince a sly smile and charged again, barreling at him with more force than a human-crafted locomotive.

In close quarters, they were both handicapped; Wink's large size limited his maneuverability and less space meant less room for Nuada to employ his favorite acrobatic tricks. Normally he'd have tried a backspin around the troll, or an agile somersault over Wink's head. Instead, Nuada lunged at Wink, diving down onto his flat stomach to slide under Wink's grasp. Nuada's momentum let him skid back across with the aid of the viscous water covering the floor of the tunnel. He twisted around onto his back as he slid, bringing up his spear between Wink's legs and turning it to catch the troll's knees. The haft of his spear slammed hard into the back of Wink's knee and the troll grunted.

Nuada's grin vanished as he felt that metallic hand close around one of his legs and he was hauled back across the floor and lifted up. A flesh, but no less solid, hand crashed a fist into his ribs and the prince's breath left him in a rush. He flipped the halfspear over in his grip and jabbed the butt of it up into the underside of Wink's chin. The troll's head rocked back and the metallic fingers loosened a little, but didn't release him. Quick as a flash, Nuada reversed the halfspear and brought it down in a bone-shattering arc onto Wink's elbow, just above the edge of the metallic arm.

The strike would have been bone-shattering if Wink wasn't a cave troll. Though the haft struck home with a thick, fleshy sound, it wasn't enough to do more than bruise. The larger fey threw his head back with a bellow, the metal fingers finally letting go just enough for Nuada to pull his leg free. Wink's good hand caught Nuada's tunic, aborting the prince's attempt to gain more space and releasing him as the metallic hand fisted in the back of the tunic. Wink slung the prince bodily right at a brick wall. Nuada whipped himself back around around Wink's fist to avoid being crushed, wincing a little as metal screeched across the stone. He dropped immediately, as Wink yanked that arm close to catch him in a crushing grip. Nuada jerked at his sash and slid out of the tunic as soon as the sash came free. He dropped into a crouch, leaving Wink with a handful of heavy silk, and shoved himself backwards to slide back between Wink's legs again, this time springing back to gain the room he needed to move as Wink's arm came whistling about again. A single thought elongated the halfspear to its full length and he reached out to tap the head against Wink's arm with a metallic cling. "First point, mine," Nuada said.

"First and only," Wink grumbled, snatching at Nuada again. The prince laughed, throwing himself back in a series of flips that carried the mock-fight down the tunnel. He'd no sooner landed on the balls of his feet than he was flying again, this time from the impact of Wink's metallic fist shot right into the center of his chest.

He hit a stone wall, head and shoulders first, and slid down in a momentarily boneless heap, trying to drag air into lungs that felt flattened. Nuada blinked grime out of his eyes to see Wink was walking towards him, his thick feet making heavy splashes in the dirty water. The disconnected fist walked itself over to Nuada on its fingers, tapping the prince once. "Second point, mine," Wink chuckled as he retracted the chain.

Nuada scrubbed the back of his hand across his face, rising with the best spirits he'd had for months. He got to his feet, checking the rayskin straps of the spear grip, then giving his friend a grin full of the thrill of battle. "To one hundred again?" he asked. "Just a light workout."

"Fair enough," Wink replied, his fist returning to the cup of the arm that formed the wrist. They shared a smile over the short space between them, then the fight was on once more.

It wound up being a draw, again, as they headed back to their den. Most of Nuada's clothes were ruined, shreds of them scattered in the sewers. His body was stiff with bruises and muscle strain, with a large patch on his ribs and a serious burning sensation in the muscle at the back of one thigh that threatened to really hurt tomorrow. Bruises stuck to Wink like water to a duck, much to Nuada's chagrin, and within the hour, the troll's regenerative abilities were going to take care of whatever blunt force blows that might've gotten past the thick skin. Wink's blue-gray hide was patterned with cuts from Nuada's spear, but they were already sealing up. Nuada envied his friend's ability to heal so quickly. He had some small magics that could help heal his own injuries - such as flesh-shaping - but for the bruising, only time would take care of those. Elves didn't regenerate as fast as trolls, but the worst of his hurts should be gone in two days. Until then, exercising was the best thing for the aches.

Nuada's buoyant mood came down only a little as he noted the child was back in their den, huddled in her customary corner. He rolled his eyes, beginning to lose the hope that he was going to be rid of her soon. He patted Wink's shoulder affectionately and left the troll's side to retire to his pallet. Nuada cleaned the spear and laid it to the side of his bed where it would be close at hand. His ruined clothes were discarded and he walked nude down the tunnel, back towards the subway area, to a broken pipe that dripped reasonably clean water in an intermittent stream. Nuada bathed under the painfully cold water, making sure the muck of the sewers rinsed completely out of his hair. It kinked itself into waves that were going to take him an hour with a comb to straighten back out again.

When he came back, Wink had settled himself down near the child's corner. Nuada pulled on a fresh tunic and trews over his wet skin, pausing slightly as he noticed something odd. Very odd.

The child was curled up in the crook of Wink's good arm, to all appearances sound asleep. And so was Wink.

He closed his eyes, wishing for his sister's patience, and opened them again to find, sadly, that the scene had not changed. Nuada heaved a heavy sigh and went to his pallet, flipping back the blanket. His eyes widened.

Lying on his pallet was a small branch of green grapes.

He frowned, trying to piece together this new strangeness. Nuada's expression cleared as he suddenly remembered the indistinct conversation between Wink and the child as they'd returned from their outing. Simple words and concepts spoken in low voices... _in Troll_. And Wink had asked him if he'd had any luck finding grapes at the market. His hands clenched into fists as the bits assembled themselves into something he didn't like.

"Wink!" he said, turning sharply to his friend.

One greenish amber eye slitted itself open as Wink glanced at him. "Hm?"

The prince pointed at the grapes, utterly shocked at the temerity of the human. "Those- She got-," after two abortive attempts to order his thoughts, Nuada finally snapped, "You taught her to speak Troll?"

Wink shrugged with one shoulder, taking care not to disturb the sleeping girl in his other arm. "Not really," he replied. "I've already been speaking Troll around her often; it was just a matter of time until she started picking up words and phrases. I've just been correcting her grammar."

Nuada bit back a groan, knowing he'd lost. The human, for good or ill, was going to stay. He rubbed a hand over his face, blowing his breath out from between clenched teeth. Speaking their native tongues had been a veil of privacy from the human intruder, and now even that was lost. Four help him... he might actually have to _speak _to the wretched girl now, if only to order her to silence if she tried to join in on the conversations he and Wink shared.

That one eye slid shut again and Wink added in voice that was thick with fatigue, "If it helps at all, she's been figuring out Elven at about the same rate."

The prince shot Wink a glare, which Wink naturally didn't see. "No, it doesn't."

"Didn't think it would," the troll said slowly, taking a deep breath as his body relaxed into sleep. Nuada stared down at the fruit, honestly torn between batting it away into the sewers, or taking the gift with the royal grace that had been instilled into him since he was born. It occurred to him that perhaps, just perhaps, a human might consider the welfare of another over herself. If so, then reinforcing that behavior was the only way to properly train the pet that Wink insisted on keeping around. And, at the same time, Nuada didn't want to encourage her.

But grapes were his favorite...

Eventually, he just moved them to the side of his pallet and laid down. He could hear the sonorous rumble of Wink's snoring, and under that the lighter breathing of the child. Nuada didn't sleep at all that night, however. His eyes were fixed upon the grapes, the cluster of green orbs edged in dark gold from the embers of the fire, as disturbing thoughts came and went, leaving his previous contentment shredded in their wake.


	4. Chapter 3

_AN: Remember what I said about final straw? This chapter deals with that somewhat with a flashback. I'm afraid I might've dipped a bit much into Emo territory here, though. And I think I have to up the rating on the story, due to some graphic violence. I'll be editing this tomorrow while I write the new chapter. Please don't be shy about telling me if I'm over- or underdoing something. _

_PS: Although I took a bit of creative liberty, there is an actual historical reference. First person to correctly identify it gets an honorary mention in a future chapter. :D_

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The rich, meaty scent of hot dogs permeated the small underground den. Mixed in with that scent was the sharp sweetness of ketchup, the acidic tang of mustard, the pungent odor of onions and several other scents that tangled together. Several hot dogs were lined up next to each other on the hearth, awaiting Wink's return from above. The heat from the firepit weighted the scents down and made them somehow thicker. Nuada hated the stench, but Wink had developed a liking for hot dogs since his pet began stealing them. Technically, the prince was outvoted by the troll's appetite. Nuada found them revolting, but held his peace.

The girl sat cross-legged beside the hearth, eating one of the vile things while she watched him. He glanced up now and then to see her still staring at him as he practiced. His initial estimate of her age being between eight to twelve winters had shifted upwards by two - Four help him, had he tolerated a human for almost two full years? His patience must be approaching that of his sister - and though her body hadn't begun to sprout in human maturity, she did have the gangliness of one approaching adolescence, though the lines of her limbs were hidden by the torn, baggy pants that Wink had found for her and that she wore constantly. In deference to the wintry chill in the air that managed to work its way down here, she was wearing a dark brown sweater with a hole worn into the knit on her left side. Under that was a black turtleneck whose texture was so new that she had to have stolen it.

The prince had a dim view of thieves, but couldn't deny the occasional necessity. She still brought grapes now and then to curry his favor, but he couldn't bring himself to accept them. It would mean accepting _her_, a human, and that he was never going to do. She could be tolerated, depending on her behavior, but she would never be one of _his _people.

The McNeil divorce was in its final stages, with the judge now hip-deep in deciding the disposition of the joint property. Nuada had come to terms with his frustration over the setback and was now waiting as patiently as he could for Wink to return so they could go out and hunt again, and possibly learn something useful that would lead them to the crown piece's location. His spear spun and flashed through the air, sending glimmers of firelight from its silver length to dance across the walls. He was practicing now primarily to distract himself from the constant recollection of failed reconnaissance missions for well over a year.

A year was hardly a notable stretch of time for an Elf, but being so close to his goal was fraying the weave of his self control. Weapons practice was the only thing that settled him, giving his body something to focus on while his mind picked over the plan, checking and rechecking it for flaws.

The best plans are the simplest, Wink often said and Nuada could only agree. The more complicated a tactical strategy was, the more quickly and easily it was blown to hell by something the enemy did that was never taken into consideration. In their case the plan was simply to find the crown piece, get it by any means necessary, then get back home. Simple and neat, and though his father would be upset, Balor would have no choice but to listen to his wayward son, with all three of the pieces once again in Elven hands.

"How did you get those scars?" she asked suddenly, her words muffled by the last bite of her hot dog.

His focus was jarred by the human's voice, and his double spin ended as only one-and-a-half. He finished the manuever with controlled grace, turning his head to give her a warning look. Though she was somewhat cleaner than she used to be, that didn't mean he felt like chatting. "Humans," he said shortly, letting his contempt for the breed lace frost through the word.

"The curly one too?"

Nuada tried to ignore her and continued his workout. He imagined a trio of humans surrounding him, and with lethal efficiency dispatched the phantoms. Then he imagined five more and killed them just as quickly.

The human rested her elbows on her knees with a faint scrape of metal. Her adoration of Wink had gotten so bad that she'd asked him for a metal arm like his own. Wink had tried to explain as gently as he could that since she wasn't a troll, she couldn't have one. She had immediately begged Wink to turn her into a troll, and Wink, who could flatten waves of oncoming enemies and wade knee-deep into gory slaughter without pause, looked completely unsettled for the first time in centuries. His friend had had to tell his pet that it wasn't possible for her to be a troll like him.

That had led to such a flood of childish heartbreak that Nuada had left the den. For three days.

When he'd returned, she seemed to finally be over it, due in no small part, he was certain, to a little metal gauntlet that Wink had fashioned which fit over her right arm. It wasn't nearly so strong or well-crafted as the troll's mechanical arm, but it kept her quiet. She was wearing it today, but when she wasn't wearing the gauntlet, it rested at her hip from a length of scrounged rope slung across her thin chest. As far as the prince could tell, she slept with it as well. Nuada wasn't certain how to react to the matter.

"It just doesn't look like a scar to me," the human persisted.

He halted in mid-swing, growling low in his throat. Hard gold eyes glared at the girl. "Do you never stop speaking?" Nuada asked.

Her anxious half-smile vanished and she frowned, a hint of nervousness creeping into her features. Unfortunately, either through long acclimation to his moods or Wink's indulgent encouragement, she wasn't quite so terrified of Nuada any more. He was no longer able to scare her into silence with a single look. It was yet another thing to foul his general disposition. "I was just wondering about it," she said defensively. "I've never seen a spiral scar before."

"It's not a scar," he gritted out from between his teeth, understanding now that she must be referring to the whorl above his temple.

"Then what is it?"

The prince wondered how so many human children managed to survive to breed, with their inborn penchant for driving those around them insane with endless questions. "Silence," he grumbled, trying once more to focus on his exercises. The five human ghosts now turned into goblins - sneaky, lithe and lightning-fast. He changed his technique to fight them all at once.

"If you'd answer me, I wouldn't have to ask ten million times," she said.

"If you were fey, you wouldn't have to ask," he snapped.

She flinched, visibly struck by his harsh words, then bit her lower lip and looked down. Satisfied that she would finally leave him in peace for a while, he turned back to the imaginary goblins. Once they were all dead, the enemies changed into many-armed velgen. Again, his technique changed to meet the attacks. He was so intent upon his practice that he could almost smell the acrid stink of their clammy skin and hear the high-pitched hum from the membranes that buzzed on the sides of each triangular head. They had two hearts, so it took an especially well-placed strike to kill a velgen in one blow. His aim was true on the first two, but the third phantom slid under his spear and he had to execute a complicated spin and roll to avoid its claws.

As his lance slashed through its face, he heard it sob. No, he heard _her _sob. Nuada halted his practice, the velgen fading from his imagination and addressed her irritably, "What is it now?"

The human had drawn her knees up to her chest and was hugging them tightly. The gauntlet gave tiny, metallic squeaks from the joints as she rocked back and forth a little. Wet tracks ran down both cheeks and she scrubbed her other wrist across a runny nose. "You and Wink are my only friends," she said, her breath hitching in sniffles.

The first time Nuada was ever caught completely off-guard in weapons practice, it had been while facing off against one opponent, while a third came up behind him and smacked him across the back of the head with a quarterstaff. The human's odd statement gave him a similar feeling. "What babbling is this?" he asked, more surprised than irritated. "Speak plainly or speak not at all."

"You and Wink are my only friends," she repeated, a freshet of tears breaking free as she wailed, "and you hate me."

Adolescents. Human adolescents. Human _female _adolescents. Nuada stared at her, completely taken aback by her hysterics. He realized suddenly that things had the potential to turn into a headache in a heartbeat for him. "Be still!" he said abruptly, startling her out of her crying. She stared at him with those not-quite green, not-quite brown eyes wide in her face. He remembered being a child and an adolescent. Subtle had never really worked on him very well when he was young, and he took the lesson from that to be shockingly blunt to her. "If I truly hated you, do you think you would still be alive now?"

Unfortunately, as the color drained completely from her face, he realized it might not have been the most optional strategy to use. He heaved a sigh and turned away from her to go to his bed, his lance retracting into itself until it was a halfspear again. He stripped off his overtunic, then the sweat-dampened undertunic and tossed the lighter garment aside before pulling the overtunic back on. The entire time, he could hear her breathing like a frightened rabbit: fast and shallow. The crying was gone, but she still hitched in her breath occasionally.

Should he speak to her again? She was a pest and a human and her attempts to ape Wink were embarrassing for the Elven prince. If he remained silent, would she finally do him the greatest service any human could and simply disappear? She had her life, and had leeched relative safety by remaining with him and Wink for almost two years. Truly, what did he owe her?

From behind him, very softly, she said, "You're always mad at me. Soon as you wake up, soon as you see me, you're mad."

Nuada turned slowly to look at her.

"I asked Wink what I did, and he says he can't explain..." she added, huddling behind her knees. "I've been trying to do things right so you won't be mad at me any more, but I don't know how. Please," her voice shook as the tears threatened to spill again, "please tell me how to fix it."

His lips thinned into a narrow, dark line. For the first time, he saw her as a child first, rather than a human. The perspective was brief, only a moment's worth, but it shook him. Where was Nuala? Why couldn't she be here, tending to an emotional girl instead of him? Why couldn't Wink have been here to be a buffer between him and the human?

"You can't fix it," he said as he turned away. He sat down on his pallet, resting his elbows on his knees. His eyes were fixed on the ground as the words came reluctantly. Thousands of years of atrocities commited by humans against his people, and he'd seen the face of every murderer in hers. It was unjust of him and he took a deep breath and finally admitted, "There's nothing you can do to fix it, because you did nothing to cause it."

The hitching in her breath stopped, because she held her breath. Her eyes went wider. "I don't understand," she said.

"You couldn't," he said in a flat voice. "I have hated humans for thousands of years. You did not have to do anything to earn my animosity, other than to simply be." The faces of dead fey marched past him; some he knew well, some he'd known in passing, others not at all. Every one of them was precious to him.

"Why?" she asked.

"I have more reasons than there are stars in the sky," Nuada said. "It would take my entire lifetime to tell you, and I would still not be done. It is simply the way of things."

Cloth scraped against stone as she slid off the hearth. She approached him slowly, warily stopping when she was two arm-length's away and sank down onto her heels. The glare he gave her was only halfhearted, and though she swallowed hard when his eyes met hers, she didn't flee. "Please tell me one," she said. "I want to understand."

Nuada stared at her for a long time, his white face expressionless in the firelight. Finally, his hand moved of its own accord, going to a flat trinket-chest that resided at the foot of his pallet. The box was enameled in deep blue, like Nuala's favorite gowns, and decorated along the edges and corners with aged silver scrollwork. He released the catch wtih his thumb, opening the lid without looking and from the box withdrew an item. "This is but one reason of many," he said.

The human stared at the object in his hand, confused. "I don't get it," she said.

His gaze dropped down to his hand. In the center of his palm, no bigger than both of his thumbs put together, was a marble sculpture of a flower in astonishing detail. The major petals were ribbonlike, curling around a center framed by minor petals. Delicate texturing on the petals gave the impression of different shades of color, though the piece was a uniform soft yellow. Despite its fragile appearance, not a chip or crack marred its perfection.

"This orchid is extinct," he said. "It once grew far to the east, on an island just off of the coast of this country. Inside this flower lived a fairy, a cilfa'lir." As he spoke, the tips of his pale fingers caressed the flower, his skin almost remembering the softness of the real thing. "She would sleep during the winter, like her flowers did. I brought her dewdrops to drink every spring when she awoke."

Unbidden, a vivid memory of white petal wings and red eyes intruded, and the remembered sensation of tiny hands holding his fingertip as she drank. A deep ache stabbed into his chest, but he went on.

"I would stay with her every fall, until she went to sleep. She was always so afraid to be alone..."

* * *

The wind picked up, flipping his hair in random directions as he headed up the grassy hill. Tucked into his tunic was the tiny crystal bottle filled with fresh dew that he'd collected from Nuala's favorite roses. His customary black had seemed too dour for the morning, and he'd worn a warm brown tunic with threads of gold throughout, both colors almost glowing against the deep scarlet sash he often wore. As he drew close to the top of the hill, he reached into the inner pocket of his tunic to draw out the bottle.

Nuada came to the top of the hill, within view of the clearing, and stopped as if turned to instantly to stone.

What had been an idyllic glade was covered, _infested_, with humans. A crude settlement had been constructed, with the palisade still half-undone. The grass was dead and flattened, in many areas gone altogether to expose dry, beaten dirt. Humans wearing drab wool clothing moved among shabby, hastily constructed dwellings. Two of them were in deep conversation by a well that had been gouged into the ground. And over there, where his cilfa'lir's spring was... had been... a rudimentary smithy had been set up, with the earth pounded flat and hard and dusty. As he stared in disbelief, a fat human wearing a burnt leather apron stepped away from the forge to relieve himself upon the ground.

The crystal bottle fell from Nuada's nerveless fingers. Shock and denial fused to block out the world around him, all of reality eclipsing down into that one small area where he could almost hear the soft chirring of laughter. A sudden, awful truth hit him low in the gut.

He'd retreated back down the hill, still staring at the atrocity before him. Only when the green slope of the hill rose to block his vision did he turn away, stumbling at first as he began to run. The pain in his stomach began to turn numb and cold, and the feeling spread throughout his body until everything, even the heart he shared with Nuala, was covered in ice.

Nuada and Wink had returned that night, armed and armored. They stole into the human settlement, silent and unstoppable, and methodically slew every last human they found. Few of the beasts knew of their peril soon enough to shout or scream, and even those bleats were muffled by the thick, wet sounds of fey metal in and against human flesh. Despite the cries of shock, fear and pain, all Nuada could hear was silence as he killed, a terrible stillness inside that even Nuala's gentle mind could not penetrate.

Only four infants, so helpless and soft they must have been newly born, were not slaughtered out of hand. For some reason, despite the icy hatred that filled him, he just couldn't do it.

Instead he took the pale, mewling whelps to the other island, where another tribe of humans resided. They were darker of skin and hair than the babes, but Nuada had watched them before, and knew they tried to live in harmony with their surroundings. They never took more than they needed from the land, and offered barbaric prayers to the spirits of the beasts they hunted. He left the babies in the crude, hide-covered huts of the other humans and returned, still numb, to his cilfa'lir's home.

He and Wink disposed of the bodies by throwing them into the ocean, leaving wide swaths of blood and darker things on the ground. The settlement they took apart, destroying every last home, the palisade and the well, the rudimentary mill and smithy... Wink had heaved the forge far out into the ocean to splash amongst the feasting sharks. By the time they were done, there was only scattered debris upon the abused earth, none of it large enough to indicate that humans had lived and killed there.

Of his beautiful little fairy and her flowers, they found no sign.

The two of them stared at the ruined glade, listening to the mournful sigh of the wind. A breath of fresh, salty air parted the thick scent of blood and dust. Wink glanced sideways at his prince, waiting for further instruction. Nuada continued to stare at the murdered spring, his gold eyes unblinking in the moonlight.

"This cannot happen again, Wink," Nuada said hoarsely, the first words either of them had spoken since returning here. The troll nodded solemnly, his good hand fidgeting with the metal goblin construct that had replaced his right arm. The new metal shone brightly and was capable of satisfyingly efficient violence, but the prince knew that Wink would have given it back in an instant, along with his entire body and soul, to have his son alive again.

Humans, always humans and their filthy, festering, _hungering _ways. "They will never stop," Wink rumbled sadly, his fingers tracing the edge of the metal arm that met his skin, "unless we stop them."

"My father will not try," the Elf said.

A heavy sigh wheezed in Wink's chest and he shook his head slowly, "The King is wise and has faith in humans, but I fear he is deceived."

"I will not let this happen again," Nuada said, his voice turning to steel. "And I cannot trust in my father to do what must be done for us."

Wink looked at his prince, a silent question upon his broad face.

The crown... that damned, seductive, messianic crown that could command the Army. Nuada had been searching for it as he learned human ways, but his curious desire was knotting and coiling now into an obsessive need. Two random thoughts converged in his grief and he snatched at the idea they created. He could not let this happen to another of his people... not Wink, not his beloved Nuala. No more of his people would die through his or his father's inaction. Nuada's heart chilled still further as he realized the cost of protecting the fey.

He would have to become a monster, to make the choices others could not, to do what others would not. Nuada would commit any crime, any horror, to safeguard his people from the same. The Defender of Bethmoora was not enough to protect his people and his world; he would have to become something much, much more. Something much, much worse.

Too many fey believed in Balor's peace; too many more had lost their endurance for violence during the wars. He would be rejected, outcast by the very world he fought to save. Alone. Not even Nuala could possibly love him enough to overcome the revulsion his actions would cause.

"I release you from service," he finally said. He couldn't ask Wink to share in that fate.

The troll made a harsh, strangled sound of surprise. He dropped immediately to one knee. "My prince," he said, his words edged in alarm, "have I displeased you?"

Nuada bowed his head, his eyes closing as he said a silent farewell to his home. He reached out without seeing to rest a white hand on Wink's shoulder. "Quite the opposite, my friend," he said. "You have been my shield-brother and closest confidant, and have done far more for me than your oath warrants."

His hand fell away as he opened his eyes again, lifting his head to look at the glade through the lens of his new purpose. Wink still knelt beside him, his expression one of trepidation and the beginnings of sorrow.

Nuada took a breath, his first breath without a home, and felt the night air curl coldly in his body. "I will reunite the crown," he said quietly, "and I will use it. I will drive the humans back into their cities and destroy those cities until they flee back to their caves. I will visit every sin back upon the humans tenfold and write them a new history in their own blood."

The troll rose to his feet as his prince spoke.

"Never again," Nuada vowed forcefully to the dead, the memory of a cheerful little face hardening his resolve. "I will stop them, and all that I love will hate me for it. I cannot, I _will _not, ask you to do the same. You deserve to remain in our world."

The wind picked up again, ruffling his moon-white hair. A lock remained stuck to his shoulder, held there by a splash of drying blood. The weight of his lance seemed ten times heavier in his numb hand.

Wink balled his good hand into a fist and tapped it against his chest, directly over his heart. "_Loh'krenn_," he rumbled. _Until death..._

The phrase was simple in its brevity and infinite in its complexity; the oath of a royal guard. Any service, under any circumstance, until the very end. Nuada shuddered as some of the ice within him cracked and he bowed his head again, his voice almost lost in the sounds of the night, "Thank you."

"You are my Prince," Wink said simply. "Where you go, I go. My first blade and my last breath are yours."

Pale hands splashed with dark patches of blood began to shake and Nuada curled them into fists to keep them under control. Waves of gratitude and grief and fear crashed together, sending tremors throughout his body. He would have to do the unthinkable to save his world, but he wouldn't be alone. He could depend upon Wink, his brother-in-soul, to keep him from faltering and fading when all hope was eclipsed by the coming darkness.

* * *

"I failed her," Nuada said, his voice barely audible. "I wasn't there when she most needed me, and she died alone."

The human stared at him, her features drawn in a fraction of the sorrow that wracked him. Her tears fell freely again, soaking into the neck of her shirt. There were suspicious spots of moisture on his hands and he blinked away a curious blurring of his eyes. At some point during the tale, she had settled herself at his feet, almost but not quite touching his legs. "What was her name?" the girl whispered.

He caressed the edges of the stone petals once more, then turned to put it reverently back into the trinket-chest. "She didn't have one; she was free." It was better, he reminded himself, that she had been crushed quickly. The old mantra wound through his thoughts, offering cold comfort when his grief became too much. Better to be crushed quickly, than to be captured, then poked and studied, put into a box and labeled for human science. It was better by far that her magic and mystery died with her.

The human nodded, appearing oddly to understand. She rubbed away the trails of tears with the cuffs of her sweater, her sobs hiccuping in her chest as fresh tears continued to flow. "Can... can I ask you something?" her voice quavered.

He no longer cared, one way or the other. His head felt heavy, feeling oddly disconnected from the rest of him. "What is it?" he asked dully.

She twisted her hands in the hem of her sweater, fraying the parting yarn still further. "Can I... I mean, is it okay..." she faltered, then took a deep breath and tried again, "...please, can my name be Orchid?"

Nuada regarded her levelly, his gold eyes flat in the dim light. It was by far the last question he could have possibly imagined. "Why?" he asked.

The girl looked up at him, still twisting her hands in the knit, seeming so much smaller in her oversized clothes. "I want to remember her too," she said, her expression pleading, "if that's okay with you."

He sighed and bowed his head, questioning his own integrity. He hated humans; it was no longer in his nature to give any of them anything, even if it might benefit him. Yet her request, so odd and so simple, didn't offend him. It actually seemed strangely appropriate. It was something another fey might ask.

His white head nodded once, granting her request to join him in mourning a fairy that had vanished long before her birth.


	5. Chapter 4

Sunlight slanted in through the partially open floor-to-ceiling windows, sinking into the polished sheen of the imported teak desk and highlighting every wood fiber with threads of amber and carnelian. A round-leafed jade plant had been placed on the corner of the desk, resting in a beige and green pot that was as round as a Buddha's belly. A flat-screen computer monitor illuminated the curve of the pot, bathing the shadowed side of the pot in a cool glow. Except for a yellow legal tablet positioned exactly in the center of the green desk pad, the desk itself was bare.

David Figueroa leaned back in his black leather chair, his feet in their alligator-skin boots resting on the corner of the desk opposite the plant. His dark hair was combed smoothly back from his forehead and was gathered into a tight ponytail at the base of his head. A narrow strip of facial hair went from just under his lower lip to the bottom of his chin, trimmed neatly every week by an expensive French stylist. His dark blue business suit was tailored to his slim frame, and suitable for meeting his clients at any time of day, whether at a consultation dinner or in a courtroom.

"Tom, Tom, Tom," he said soothingly, "I know Sharon is trying to screw you over. I've been with you every step of the way. What she doesn't realize is that she has no legal standing to get anything that was left to you by your relatives-"

He winced a little and pulled the shiny chrome cellular phone from his ear as his client interrupted him loudly. He waited a few seconds for the man to calm himself, then brought the phone back to his ear.

"Tom, listen to me... I've been over this with the judge a hundred times. Sharon cannot touch the property in Manitoba or that gold trinket. She can't even touch the monetary inheritance from your grandfather-"

Another shout. Figueroa sighed and waited for a break in his client's anger.

"That's why I told you to put the money into a separate account. You did that, remember? You even questioned my competence, if I recall, but that inheritance is protected. Whether or not you two were married when you received it is irrelevant, because you kept it separate."

At last, it seemed his words were getting through to the recently divorced McNeil. The words coming over the phone were indistinct, but seemed calmer.

"Trust me, Judge Henderson isn't going to award any part of your inheritance to your ex-wife." Figueroa leaned forward to press his fingertip against a spot of dust on the desk and pick it up. He examined it closely, then brushed it off onto the floor. "In fact, I think your decision to sell both properties is a good one, but you need to wait until your divorce is finalized."

Figueroa fell silent again, listening to his client for a minute, then said, "I don't know, Tom. Her attorney is pretty ruthless in the courtroom, and he's filing every single motion that I know of and a few that I don't-"

He halted as McNeil interrupted him again, his handsome face drawing into an exasperated frown.

"Let me assure you, I did not graduate at the bottom of my class," he replied, his smooth voice underlaid with stone. "The fact that I have never heard of some of his motions simply means that he's making things up. She's desperate to keep this divorce from finalizing, and so he's using every single bluff and trick he can think of. Judge Henderson will tire of it soon and when that happens, he'll block any further motions or he'll find Harris in contempt."

A discreet chime from the computer notified Figueroa of new email. He clicked it open, scanned the contents quickly, then deleted it.

"Tom, all of our ducks are in a row. Everything has been filed, everything is in order. At this point, it's just a waiting game. Sharon's desperate and she's doing stupid things; Judge Henderson knows this."

He fell silent again as his client talked. Figueroa tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder and composed a new email. The electronic missive was sent, and an answering reply came back before McNeil was done with his blustering. Figueroa scanned the answer he got for a meeting proposal.

"Yes, I'm listening," he said. "However, you hired me - at an excellent price, I might add - to worry about all those details for you. I know you're anxious to get rid of it; I'm just saying to wait a little while longer so the proceeds from the auction don't get tangled up in your divorce."

McNeil went off again, Figueroa rolled his eyes and sent back his reply to Harris, confirming their business lunch later that week to discuss their respective clients.

"Tom, it's just a bit of paranoia. I'm sure you're not being followed."

Behind the thick oleander bushes just outside the windows, a figure crouched, grinning as the attorney said that. The shrubs were cropped closely to prevent the view out of the windows from being obstructed in any way. The narrow leaves clustered so closely together that the wall behind the bushes was cool and moist, despite that side of the building being in the sun for most of the day. Metal fingers flexed with a slight creak, the owner of the hand too excited to keep perfectly still.

"Alright, Tom. You go ahead and do whatever you want; you have that right. However, as your attorney, I have to reiterate that I strongly suggest you wait until Sharon is completely and legally out of your life before you sell that artifact. If the preliminary appraisal of seven million to start is correct, then it'll probably double or triple during the auction, depending on how it's presented. You don't want to split that down the middle with a woman who was blowing two lovers at the same time when you walked in, do you?"

Another pause, then Figueroa smiled. "You've made the right choice, Tom. Now, go get a massage or something. Get your mind off this whole mess, because it's almost over. I promise. And in fact, if I were you, I'd make sure the auction house gives her a special invitation to attend so she can see exactly how much she's not getting from the sale."

A low beep signalled the end of the conversation. Figueroa shook his head, smiling at nothing in particular and dialed another number on the phone. The spy just outside the window listened long enough to realize that the new conversation had nothing to do with the McNeils and slowly backed away, easing between the shrubs and the wall with enough care not to disturb the leaves. The day was still young and there was a lot more to do.

Wink flexed his fist, the metal screeching as the digits tightened. Nuada's dark lips were turning slightly blue. He'd tried several times to break the troll's grip on his throat, but to no avail. The troll watched him, his mouth opening in a slight smile. The grip wasn't tight enough to crush the prince's throat, but it was slowly strangling his air.

Finally, Nuada growled and tapped the troll's elbow. "Enough!" he gasped. Wink released him and the Elf dropped to the ground, almost collapsing as his air-starved muscles gave out on him. He whooped, filling his lungs for the first time in what seemed like hours. "Your victory, this time," he said, rubbing his throat with one hand.

Wink reached down to help him up, an apology on his rough face. "Are you all right, my prince?"

"I'm fine," Nuada replied, trying to swallow. The third attempt worked and he added, "I will be." He went to retrieve his spear from where Wink's backhanded blow had sent it clattering. "You're getting faster," he said.

"I had to," his friend rumbled. "You're more slippery than an oiled eel. The fastest way to beat you these days is to get a grip on you somehow."

It was a weakness, and one he would have to work on, Nuada realized. He rolled his head slowly, feeling his neck stretch and pop just a little as things settled back into place. The spear contracted smoothly in his hand and he flipped the weapon around to carry it alongside his arm. His attention went back down the tunnel at the sound of a scuffing trot as Orchid came into view.

The gauntlet was on her arm again, and the haft of her hammer stuck up over one shoulder. Crossing her chest the other way was the worn strap of a satchel that she took with her when she went above. The satchel was full again and she had a very big, very smug grin on her face, waving as her human eyes adjusted well enough to see them. Nuada dipped his head slightly, a bare acknowledgement of the salutation, and rubbed drops of sweat and water from his forehead with the back of one hand. Orchid continued to approach the two of them, and Nuada stepped away from his friend, going to the hearth near his pallet.

She'd gotten used to his moods and didn't attempt anything more rambunctious than a distant and polite greeting. Wink, however, had to move quickly to catch her as she threw herself into his arms, hugging him tightly. "_I brought back some really good stuff this time_," she crowed in Troll, her throat flattening some of the more complicated trills. "_The National Geographic store is going out of business and there was a ton of stuff that was practically being given away!_"

The troll patted her head gently, "_All right, then. Let's see what you found_."

Orchid giggled. "_Well, 'found' is such a flexible term..._"

Wink chuckled; he had never seen a problem with humans losing their precious possessions for any reason, especially not through their own lack of vigilance. He set the girl down and she ran to the hearth, sitting down on the edge and pulling the strap of her satchel over her head. The metal gauntlet squeaked on her hand as she dug into the bag, pulling out small pasteboard boxes with chunks of natural mineral in them. "_I couldn't find much for metal_," she said, "_but there were a lot of ores and pyrites there._" She held open one box, containing an ore that had crystallized into a clump of cubes with a rainbow sheen. "_Is this something you can use?_"

A large gray hand reached out to take the small box, one amber-green eye peering into it. He rubbed his thumb over the surface of the cluster and chuffed. "_Not any good for working, but maybe for trading. Goblins like shiny things._"

Orchid grinned happily, drawing forth more "found" treasures. "There's a piece of tektite here too," she said, switching to the human tongue as her Troll vocabulary was exhausted. Her words were slightly breathless with her excitement, "The card said it came from the impact of a meteor... and here's some quartz and hematite and turquoise..." She continued to spill the stones and minerals onto the hearth, spreading them out for Wink's inspection. He settled down next to the hearth to do so, giving the display a measure of solemn consideration that only a stonemaster can.

Nuada watched the exchange briefly, then turned away, bending his attention to a dark purple bruise that was spreading from his elbow where it had impacted too solidly with the wall. He sensed the pain echoing across the distance to reflect itself on Nuala. _My apologies, dear sister_, he thought to her, though he was no longer certain she could still hear him. A wordless pulse of affection, imagined or real he could not tell, came back to him and he smiled briefly. _I will return home soon, Nuala..._

"Prince?" the girl asked from her seat on the hearth.

He gave her a sideways glance, "What is it?"

"There was a farmer's market up there today too," Orchid said. "I know you don't eat much human stuff, but I brought some fruit back anyway, just in case there was something you'd like?"

"I'm not hungry," he replied. A lifetime of royal etiquette almost made him reply more gracefully.

The hesitant hope in her face vanished and she nodded in acceptance, looking back down at her bag to pull out other findings. "I didn't find a good mark among the hot dog vendors today," she offered, speaking to Wink as she dug out two large, deep purple oblongs, "but the farmer's market had some really big eggplants." The troll gave her an absent nod as he took one and bit into it. His attention was still on the minerals as he sorted them out.

"It's way easier to lift produce," she continued, her voice pitched for Wink but still carrying to Nuada. Her grin, an expression she wore more and more often in recent months, began to creep back in at the corners of her mouth. "Nobody tags veggies, and nobody watches the produce section too closely. CD's, DVD's and other little stuff that can be sold has security cameras all over them; nobody seems to care much about food." She gave Wink the other eggplant as he finished the first. "Are you going to be going out again soon?"

The troll's sloped shoulders rose in a shrug. "It depends," he said.

"Not tonight," Nuada said to Wink. "Likely tomorrow." He couldn't keep a grim note out of his voice. Tom McNeil had moved out of the large house he owned with his wife, and it was being sold now so that it could be split according to the "communal property laws" that humans in this state applied to marriage. Reconnaisance was somewhat easier, since McNeil's rented house didn't have as extensive a security system, but there was still precious little to hear that did not have to do with his wife's perfidy. It didn't escape Nuada's notice that the girl's grin deepened, and that made him more than a little suspicious.

"What's this?" Wink asked her, holding a tiny orb in his fingers. He seemed not to notice his prince's shift in mood.

Orchid leaned over to see it better, "Oh, that's a marble," she said. "They had some fancy ones made out of stone, but there was this bag of glass ones that was just too pretty." The girl pulled out a plastic mesh bag filled with the translucent spheres and handed it to Wink. He held it up against the firelight, eyeing the deep, solid hues of blue, red, green and purple. "Workable," he said. "No occlusions, no foreign objects."

"That explains the price tag," she said wryly. "The gemstone ones were unbelievable, though. That one there is ruby."

The troll picked up the one she pointed at and rolled it between his fingers. It was a brownish red sphere with a smoothed, but not polished, texture. A tiny crevice filled with even tinier crystals marred its surface. He sniffed at it, then snorted. "Not ruby," he muttered. "Red beryl, more likely."

"Not ruby?" Her mood deflated and she sighed with a crooked half-smile, "I hate it when I get cheated."

Wink chortled, setting the red beryl aside. "Not bad," he said finally of the collection she'd brought home. He gathered the items that were too useless or too common to be usable for trading in the troll market and gave them back to her. "You're getting better at seeing what is of real value."

Every time Wink praised her in any way, she practically glowed with joy. "Do you want the marbles too?"

He shook his head briefly. "Probably won't need them, but keep them with your other treasures. There are glass-shapers among the Elves and it's not always easy for them to find ingots of good, raw material. I don't know if they could use tiny spheres, but it's possible."

The girl nodded, her limp brown hair swaying with the movement. She gathered the items he gave back to her and stowed them back in her satchel. "Whatever I can get that's useful, it's all yours," she said. Her eyes went back up to Nuada, and she cleared her throat a little nervously. "Um... Prince, sir?"

"Your Highness," Wink corrected her softly.

"Your Highness, I mean," she quickly repeated.

Nuada folded his arms, subtly rubbing the bruise on his arm with his fingertips. "What is it?" he replied, his eyes flicking down to see the items Wink had separated out as "useful" for crafting or trading. His friend's pet was getting marginally better at her thieving, a skill that she took more than a little pride in using for Wink's benefit.

She slid off the stone hearth, walking around Wink to approach him, her demeanor changing to shy diffidence. Wink turned his head to watch her, his eyes shifting to Nuada for the other's reaction. Orchid stopped a respectful distance from the prince, an unspoken rule she'd only broken once before, and stood there, fidgeting with her gauntlet. "Your Highness," she said again, nervously, "I've been listening when you and Wink talk about stuff sometimes..."

Nuada's even stare frosted over and she faltered. "Have you, now?" he said in a deceptively mild tone.

Her throat worked as she swallowed hard and nodded, dropping her eyes, but stealing glances back up at him as she spoke. "I'm sorry, sir, Majesty, um... Not a lot of things, just bits here and there about some guy named McNeil and-"

The frost turned to shards of ice and she hesitated again, ducking her head. "Tell me," Nuada said, his voice now almost a purr. "What exactly do you know?"

Behind the girl, Wink had turned his attention fully to the prince and his pet. A frown drew a deep furrow between his eyes as he watched, understanding Nuada's mannerisms far better than anyone else, and clearly expecting something bad to happen. Perhaps today, his friend's experiment in keeping a human for amusement's sake would come to an end.

"Not much," she whispered, metal squeaking as she twisted her fingers together. "At least, I hope not. I mean, I remember hearing about this guy and something he's got that was stolen from your family, and the divorce is messing things up something awful, but that's all." She sneaked a look at him quickly and glanced back down. "I hope that's not much," she said, a touch of panic in her expression, "I really, really hope so."

"Stop acting like a frightened sparrow," he said, inwardly thankful that she hadn't heard anything about the Army, or what it would do to her race. "I am displeased, however, that you would spy upon conversations that do not involve you."

A half-smile fluttered into being and she said, "It's not like I can take my ears off, your Highness." When he gave her a flat, unamused stare, the smile vanished, "I'm sorry," she said, fixing her eyes on the ground again. "I just want to help. I... um... I've..." The girl took a deep breath and spoke quickly, her mumbled words tumbling over each other. "I-found-out-who-his-lawyer-is-and-Ive-been-spying-on-him-sometimes-and-I-thought-it-was-okay-to-do-but-if-its-not-I-wont-do-it-any-more-and-Im-sorry-please-dont-be-mad-at-me-again-"

The flood of high, breathless words stopped suddenly as he raised a hand abruptly. "What are you babbling about?" Nuada asked, more than a little annoyance in his voice.

She coughed slightly and scuffed one foot on the ground. "His lawyer," she repeated, trying to shrink in on herself. "You and Wink have been following the guy, but I didn't know if you were following his lawyer, so-"

"On occasion," the prince said coolly. He wasn't quite sure yet if he was angry or not at her audacity. With several targets to watch - namely, both McNeils and their respective lawyers - there was always a chance that he or Wink would miss out on a vital hint given by one person while they were occupied with one of the others. Using her as a spy as well had crossed his mind, but he'd decided against it, not because of what she might _not _learn, but because of what she _might_.

"Oh," she said, her shoulders dropping. "I, um, was up at his office today..." she trailed off and when Nuada remained silent, she took a breath and went on. "He was talking to that guy, McNeil, on the phone. McNeil's really hot to get rid of some gold artifact, and his lawyer was telling him to hang onto it until after the divorce."

Despite himself, the prince's curiosity was piqued. "Is that all?"

"The lawyer's going to help McNeil auction it off, but I didn't hear where. It's supposed to be going for a lot of money, though." Her voice slowly got stronger with the recitation and she dared another glance at him.

His face was drawn in a thoughtful frown as he considered this new information. Most of the surveillance of the attorneys involved had been collateral to their observation of the estranged spouses. "Why is the lawyer concerning himself with that?" he mused, half to himself. Lawyers, he had come to understand, were much like scavengers and while they could pick apart their fetid corpse of choice with surgical precision, they did not often hop to a different carrion than their customary meal.

"Um, your Highness?"

His attention returned to the girl, still fidgeting before him. "What?"

"Well, lawyers can specialize, but anything having to do with the law they get involved in," she offered slowly. "My mom and dad got divorced a long time ago, and she kept her lawyer for services after Dad was gone. This McNeil guy's a business type, and business and law are tangled together worse than an SOS pad."

The odd reference held no relevance to him, but he understood the essential meaning of it. Perhaps at this stage of the game, he and Wink should be focusing their attention more on the lawyers. It should certainly, at the very least, give him and Wink a much-needed respite from the McNeils' petty and worthless sniping about each other. If the child's information was true, then he could at least be assured that the crown piece wasn't going to vanish again until the divorce was final. In any regard, it was worth further investigation.

Strangely, against all odds, the human had done something useful besides stealing bits of junk. He looked down at her, his expression more contemplative than displeased. "I can forgive your actions," he said at last, the statement bringing her face up with a sudden flash of hope, "since fortune seems to have smiled upon you today. However," he added sternly, erasing that hope and sending her eyes back down to the floor, "you will not again engage in the creative interpretation of your own capabilities and their application."

Orchid turned a confused look up at him. "Huh?"

"Cease your spying and do not attempt anything new unless Wink tells you otherwise," he clarified. Wink seemed to relax, shaking his head slightly and turning his attention back to the stones on the hearth.

"Oh," she said, dropping her gaze again. "But... does that help? At all?" she asked hesitantly.

"It may," Nuada admitted. "Only time will tell, but it may be a viable trail to follow." The bruise finally stopped hurting, and he turned away from her to pull out a fresh shirt for himself. The one he was wearing needed some mending for the tear over his elbow. Though he was looking elsewhere, he remained focused on the human still standing behind him. An eternity of warfare had left him ever-aware of everyone and everything around him.

"Can I ask a boon, then?" she asked quickly.

Nuada looked at her sharply, and even Wink's attention was yanked back to the tableau. "What did you say?" the prince demanded and she took a hasty step back. Nuada glowered at her, disappointment and anger knotting together in his stomach. After all this time, all of her efforts to fit in with the two fey, she was still only human after all. Still constantly grasping for things, any things. The knot burned sullenly in his stomach. "How dare you?" he growled.

Orchid halted as she backed up against Wink, who had risen to his feet. She stared at Nuada with pure terror in her eyes. "R-re-retainers can somet-times ask for a boon," she stammered, "if they've d-done a service for their lord, right?"

She was absolutely right, but that bit of lore wasn't something she would guess by accident. His fiery eyes went to Wink, who looked somewhat discomfited. He and his friend were going to have to have a very serious discussion about what the troll was teaching his pet about fey culture, but not now and not where she could hear any of it.

"It depends on the service performed and the boon requested," he said, every word carved from ice. "And, most importantly, the one asking the boon must be a retainer, as you said, or above. So far, you are not."

Her head bobbed as she nodded, "Okay, sir - Highness, I'm really, really sorry." There was true remorse in her expression, and he realized with a surge of bitterness that it was because of the loss of whatever favor she now knew she wasn't going to get. His flickering anger was directed more at himself than at her, however. It was human nature to consume; he was the fool for beginning to think one of them could possibly be otherwise. Her eyes were filling with tears that refused to fall, giving her eyes a somewhat glassy look as she stared up at him. Her hands shook a little with fear as she added, "Please forgive me."

Not likely, not ever again. He scowled at her. "What... _thing_... would you have asked?" he hissed, "What price would you have put upon your service to others?" The prince's baleful stare went from the girl to Wink. _See!_ he wanted to say to his friend. _Your pet is as human as the rest of them._

"N-nothing!" she cried, unable to retreat farther because of Wink's solid bulk at her back and his hand upon her shoulder. "Please, I didn't-"

"Speak!" he shouted.

Orchid cringed from the whipcrack of his voice. Her lips trembled and she tucked her hands against her chest, a huddling, defensive gesture. "I just wanted to go to the troll market too," she whispered, her voice quivering as the tears began to spill. She'd nearly flattened herself against the leather-wrapped expanse of Wink's belly, her skin almost as ghost-white as his own in fear.

Nuada's anger curled in upon itself, thrashing for a target that was suddenly taken from it. His scowl deepened and he growled, "You lie."

Her hair flew as she shook her head frantically, her voice high and frightened, "N-n-no, your H-highness. I swear!"

His teeth ground together and his hands twitched. He controlled both with an effort, reining in the anger as he did so. One long, elegant finger stabbed at her accusingly as he said "No human would be aggrieved at the denial of so small a thing." An outing, all she claimed she wanted was an outing... He refused to believe it. Humans were fixated on possessions and power and it twisted inside him that she turned out to be no different.

"It's not a small thing," she cried, trying to edge out of Wink's grip. The troll held her gently, but firmly in place, making her face the prince's wrath. "You guys go all the time... I just want to go too," her voice shook even more as she spoke. "I want to stay with Wink."

Nuada wished he had the same measure of his twin's ability to sense the truth in others. His own talent was smaller and less reliable than his long experience in observing creatures and reading their faces and bodies. For a human, she sounded sincere, but then most of them did, when faced with immediate peril. However much of her behavior was oddly unpredictable since it incorporated Wink's teaching of troll and fey customs. It sounded like she might be speaking the truth... but she was human...

He looked to Wink once more, and the troll shrugged. "What you decide, my prince, so will I do." The rumbling words held no trace of reluctance. A certain regret, perhaps, but not reluctance.

It was on the tip of Nuada's tongue to order his friend to get rid of the pet. He even opened his mouth to do so, then shut it again, recalling the sharp report of his bedroom door cracking. His anger, no his fury, was out and boiling in his blood, more unleashed than it had been in many years. His eyes slid shut briefly as he wrestled it back down, then opened again when he was sure of his control once more. "A word, Mr. Wink," he said, adding pointedly, "alone."

The troll bowed his head, "Of course." He guided the girl to her corner, sitting her down with that same hand on her shoulder.

"Wink..." she whimpered, still watching Nuada.

"Ssh," he rumbled. "It is the prince's decision. We are honor-bound to obey." Orchid nodded, biting her lip so hard that a faint line of blood edged her teeth. He turned to follow Nuada away from the den, his longer legs keeping up with the prince's stalking pace.

"Explain," Nuada said shortly, as soon as they were several sections away. They stopped near a squared grate that dripped warm water into the tunnel from a massive steam pipe. He turned to face his friend, his eyes sliding past Wink to watch the passage behind him in case the human tried to spy upon them again.

Wink sighed, "I knew she wanted to go with us, Sire, but not that she would ask it as a boon."

Nuada waved that away irritably. The request itself wasn't the issue; making a request at all, was. "You believe that's all she wants?"

"No," the troll said simply.

"Then what is it?"

"She wants to serve you as I do, my prince."

Nuada blinked, imagining for a moment a third opponent behind him with a quarterstaff. "What?"

Wink shifted his weight a little, his murky green-amber eyes narrowing a little as he organized his thoughts. "I think she asked it as a boon, because then if you granted it, it means she is your vassal." His metal hand opened and closed as he flexed the mechanical fingers, as he often did to keep them limber. "I can only guess that she couldn't think of another way to ask, or perhaps she felt this strategy held the most chance of success."

"It was deceptive," Nuada said.

His friend nodded once. "Yes," he replied, not offering anything to mitigate it.

"Are you certain that is her true aim?"

"Yes."

The prince sighed, feeling his anger bleed away and with it, the sick knotting in his gut. He'd nearly fallen into the same trap his father had, and the thought made him want to shudder. "She's a human," he said. "Humans do not hold the same strength of loyalty or honor as the fey. Their oaths are made briefer by their short lives." He rested one hand on the hilt of the knife at his waist, pacing across the tunnel and back again. After the third pass, he paused and faced Wink again. "Is that why you've continued to train her?"

The troll met his gaze steadily. "One reason," he rumbled.

"And the other?"

"Children need discipline beaten into their heads."

Wink's answer made Nuada's lips twitch in amusement. It was just what they'd been told on a daily basis when they were young and subject to a weapon master's rule. "I would suggest then, my friend, that you train her much more." The sound of Wink's brief chuckle soothed away the last of Nuada's anger and he looked up for a moment, then back down at the other fey. Wink's pet would be useless for anything but very basic service, tasks that were not so far above what she was already doing. A minor servant, if that, but a sworn one regardless. "Very well," he said, half-certain that his decision would end in disaster despite Wink's competence. "Let her prove herself... if she can."


	6. Chapter 5

_AN: I do a lot of fast-forwarding, mainly because the chapters are snapshots in my mind. This chapter, unlike the others, takes place very soon after the previous one. As I mentioned before, I'm not entirely happy with the last chapter, but this one seemed to turn out pretty well and I hope it makes up for any shortcomings in Chapter 4. This was **fun **to write! _

_PS: I'm not using titles for the chapters, but if I did, this one might be "Whatever Can Go Wrong, Will..." Those of you that have kids will understand all too well._

* * *

Troll markets reflected the setting in which they were hidden and always were situated under a bridge of some kind, either crafted by hands or formed naturally by the world itself. Nuada and Wink had been to troll markets in deep forests, where vendors and performers had set up their stalls in the trees and on swaying walkways stretching in between. They had visited one hidden in Death Valley, under a natural arch of stone, where the bazaar had been nestled among boulders, sand and scorpions.

This one, its entrance hidden in the basement of the Ferry Building on the Embarcadero, reflected San Francisco's eastern waterfront. The market itself was directly beneath the west end of the Bay Bridge. Since the tunnels which Nuada and Wink used to travel swiftly and unseen under the city ran underneath the Ferry Building, it was quite easy for them to make their way to the entrance to the troll market, then along the waterfront to the sealed door of the market itself. The chatter and bustle of human herds in their cherished trains was more than sufficient to camouflage any noise he or the troll might make. It was fully sufficient to mask any noise a battalion of metal-armored mountain trolls in a mating display might make.

"_Are we there yet?_" the girl asked in Troll, trotting to keep up with Wink's longer paces.

"_No,_" he replied, slowing his walk a little to make it easier for her to keep up. When Nuada didn't slacken his stride, however, the troll reached out and picked up the girl, setting her in the crook of his mechanical arm. "_No stealing from this place,_" he rumbled to her. "_Goblins are far more attentive to their wares than humans._"

Orchid nodded solemnly, clutching her satchel close to her. The gauntlet on her arm squeaked as she did; Wink had advised her to leave the hammer behind, but she had begged to be allowed to keep the arm. The bag itself appeared mostly empty, holding only a few bits of junk, the marbles and a few carrots. The girl crunched on one of the carrots as they went further into the tunnels leading to the troll market. A floppy canvas hat covered her head and drooped down to partially veil her face, its wide brim stained with whatever else had been in the dumpster with it. She kept pushing the brim back up irritably to see, but obeyed her instructions and kept it on. More rags had been pieced together to form a sort of cloak to hide the lines of her shape, the hem of it soaked up to her shins with the waste water of the sewer.

Nuada strode ahead of the two, his attention split between the conversation behind him and the surroundings all around them. The slime and water of the lower levels eventually dried away, silencing the faint spatter of their walking. His thoughts were on the human child, and the complications he and Wink were about to walk into. A human in a troll market would be more conspicuous than a lump of coal among pearls, and, Balor's peace not withstanding, few fey would react graciously to a human in their own territory. He had finally settled the matter of the gauntlet by reminding Wink that it would help the girl to blend in. They were in need of more supplies, but they could have left her behind as always.

Why had he granted the human's boon, he wondered to himself. Was he falling under some kind of spell, that he tolerated this skinny creature so much? Did Balor's own weakness begin this way, silent and subtle, with no indication that anything was different until he realized one day that such things he would have fought against violently in the past were strangely just... acceptable? Nuada's face was grim as he considered just how soft he was getting. Soft was the last thing the fey needed from him.

But accepting her oath of service, haltingly given with Wink's prompting, had settled some of the problems with which he wrestled. Time would tell him, he was certain, of what additional complications it spawned.

They stopped before the gigantic clockwork door, paired with a smaller circle inset with many dials and gears. Nuada stroked his fingers over the glyphs, calling to the purpose of each one with his magic. With a clicking whir that grew in intensity, the gears shifted and began to spin. He stepped back, looking up at the massive door as the mechanism clattered noisily, each toothed circle - the smallest one larger than Wink's head - scraping against its brothers as they turned in a slower copy of the lock's dance.

Wink set the girl down with a quiet reminder not to wander. She nodded obediently, but her eyes were huge as she looked at the wonders of the troll market. As crowded as any human market, the troll market's inhabitants were of every shape and color and size imaginable, from the brightly hued wee fey that fluttered overhead to the massive piatek that occasionally snapped at the flying sprites with its black beak. The murky, salty odor of the bay overlaid the complex tapestry of other odors of skin, beasts and different kinds of fairy food. A symphony of a thousand voices, ranging from trills and squawks to liquid melodies blended in a cacophony of trade.

The troll patted Orchid gently on the back to move her forward as they entered the market. The door ground and groaned as it slid shut behind them. The two fey glanced at each other, both wanting this trip to be over as soon as possible. "_I'll go to the metalworks,_" Wink said, glancing briefly at the human that was slowly edging away from them. "_Once I have what I need from there, I'll find you._"

The prince nodded shortly. Splitting up and finishing their business quickly was their best chance of avoiding problems. It wasn't ideal, but Wink was better able to handle the girl's curiosity than he was. "_Be careful,_" Nuada said to Wink, a single warning look down at the fascinated girl.

The troll followed the prince's eyes and reached out with a sigh to draw her back from a vendor and customer bartering viciously over an especially large and well-preserved karkinos shell. The manticore, the venomous tip of his brick-red tail spraying clear, foul liquid as it whipped back and forth, was furious with the vendor of rare spell components. His fanged, human mouth growled at the scaly catoblepas who wore a supercilious sneer on its canine face. The human stared at the two creatures, her mouth open in a small 'O' of rapture.

"_Welcome, visitors..._" came a musical, seductive voice. Both fey turned to see a large stone pool raised from the ground. Lounging on one end was an ethereal womanly shape, seemingly sculpted from living water, which gave the prince a coy smile as his attention was caught. The watery form rippled and assumed another shape, that of an equally ideal fey body. Her liquid hands beckoned to Nuada and Wink as she gave a watery purr, "_You look like you've traveled a very long way. Come and rest for a while... I can refresh your minds and bodies for a very reasonable fee._"

The prince shook his head, just as he'd done every time she'd propositioned him. There had been many fey maids, not just Elven ones, who had vied for a prince's attentions over the centuries. Nuada was curious about sporting with the water sprite, but not especially anxious to add that experience to his list of leman.

Fortunately, the siren's proposition was answered by another. A savage-looking abarimon pushed past the Elf, his face slack with befuddlement as he stumbled towards the pool. She swam away, writhing her body enticingly at the humanoid as he clambered over the side, his backwards-oriented feet scraping against the stone as he toppled headfirst into the water. The undine laughed with a sound like a gentle brook, then dove under the surface to enjoy her newest catch.

The abarimon might survive the experience, but Nuada doubted it. Not with the pool's other occupant lying on the other end. An eyeless maiden rested her cheek against the rim of the stone pool, only her shoulders and the tops of her pale breasts showing above the water. Flame-red hair trailed over her body, painting ribbons of scarlet in the water that waved gently as she turned her head. "_Sweet, sweet child..._" she whispered, "_come to me, and we'll play._"

The lamia's words were soft and gentle, but both the prince and his bodyguard knew better. Wink looked down to see Orchid moving dreamlike towards the pool as the low words caught the child's attention and held it in bindings of stone. The troll stopped her from answering the bewitching enchantment; accidentally bumping a nearby iron-shod redcap. "_Not this time_," Wink said, pulling her back. The girl didn't seem to hear his words; her eyes were fixed on the water demon.

The lamia's rich pink lips parted in a smile, revealing rows of narrow, razor-sharp teeth. She lifted herself up onto her hands on the edge of the pool, the wet tresses of her hair failing to fully cover her nude form. Her lower body was that of a serpent, the rose and gold scales starting as a sprinkling of shimmer along her breasts and turning into a more alien hide as one's eyes traveled down to her stomach. A pearlescent fin with metallic gold spines trailed down the back of the lamia's body to the tip of the tail that rose out of the water. The empty sockets were still fixed on Orchid. "_Give me the child, great warrior_," she coaxed, "_and we can splash for as long as you wish._"

"_No_," Wink repeated, drawing the girl back. Still, the child seemed unaware of him, which was no doubt part of the lamia's spell. The sooner he got her away from the lovely monster, the better.

"_Please_," she begged in a multilayered trill, holding out her arms beseechingly. "_I'm so hungry... it smells so tender and sweet. You and the pretty Elf, then, and only a bite. A single bite of the child... please..._" The redcap looked up at the lamia, then turned to view the trio with narrow, black eyes.

The two fey turned and walked away, ignoring the lamia's pleas. She called after them until they were nearly out of sight, then finally let out a piercing screech of frustration. The surface splashed as she dove into the water to share the siren's companion. The lamia bit savagely into the abarimon locked in the oblivion of the undine's embrace, and dark green blood squirted and curled at the bottom of the pool.

The screech startled the child and she blinked several times. "_Wha... What was that?_"

"_A lamia,_" Wink told her. "_She eats whoever she can catch, but she prefers children most of all._"

Particularly human children, Nuada recalled. He glanced around to make sure nobody else had noticed the lamia's fixation. With the oversized hat and ragged cloak hiding most of her face and body, and her gauntlet displayed openly, Orchid could pass for a smaller troll species to a careless observer. A very careless observer. Nuada looked around once more, quite casually, but alert to anyone looking in their direction. He found none; the market seemed to bustle as normal, but a single thread of suspicion wound its way down his spine regardless. Something wasn't right.

"_She was gonna eat me?!_" Orchid squeaked.

"_Come now_," Nuada admonished his friend, a bit of dark humor playing along his deliberately light words. "_The lady did say she only wanted a bite._"

The girl edged closer to Wink, clinging to the troll's wide belt. She still tried to look around at everything at once, but her fascination with the troll market was now tinged with fear. Good. With any fortune at all, she would not have to learn caution the hard way. Nuada didn't envy his friend in the slightest as he took his leave.

Wink nudged the girl along, keeping his hoofed paces slow enough to let her take in the wonders of the fairy world. They passed by a large black buggane selling preserved skyfins, her tusks gleaming against the painfully bright red of her mouth. Orchid halted frequently to get a more careful look at a new wonder or other strangeness, and Wink patiently prodded her forward when the vendors or their wares were too dangerous.

Nearly to his goal, a huge metalworker's stall and shop set up next to a forge, Orchid gasped and tugged at Wink's hand. "_Can I go see those, please?_"

The troll looked; the vendor in question was a chickcharney, a rotund, ugly creature with both fur and feathers. However, chickcharneys were not especially dangerous, if one was polite to them, so he nodded. "_Just a short look,_" he reminded her as she darted to the tables, following her more slowly. Arrayed on many-colored, glittering swaths of cloth were cages of all sizes, each one containing a fantastical creature. The chickcharney dealt in exotic pets and other black market acquisitions, though his dealings were of such common knowledge, the term "black market" was a very loose one indeed.

The fey looked up as the girl approached, a detached smile parting his rigid lips. "_Greetings, little trollkin, what do you seek today?_" he chirped in Troll, his lips clacking together as he formed his trills.

"_Just looking, sir,_" she replied, peering into the cages. "_Anything pretty?_"

The chickcharney preened, his round face splitting in a much warmer smile. "_Pretty and rare, my dear. Look at this lunabird here,_" he said, lifting the dark woven shawl that covered a triangular cage. A soft glow came from within and Orchid stared in wonder at the lovely bird inside, its white plumage shining like the moon itself. The vendor chirped again as he reached for another cover, "_Or perhaps something more volatile is to your liking?_" Another shawl was pulled away to reveal a different bird with two heads, its feathers in hues of ruby and garnet. Tiny false-sparkles of fire trailed from the edges of each one, drifting from its tail to vanish before touching the bottom of the cage. "_This be a firebird, direct from Russia itself. I caught it with the aid of a rusalka who needed a bit of help enticing a domovoi into her river..._"

The girl reached out to touch the bird and the chickcharney covered the cage quickly again. "_Now, now, now,_" he warned. "_No touching the merchandise without showing me something to barter. And no touching _that _until the deal is done; firebirds are touchy creatures and I won't have it losing its temper around my other wares._"

A frown crossed the girl's face. She wanted to pet something, her eyes falling on a miniature cat with sinfully long, silky fur. The tiny beast blinked two pairs of eyes at her briefly before going back to grooming both tails with long swipes of its tongue. Orchid pulled out the bag of marbles and showed it to the chickcharney, "_Can I buy the kitten with some of these?_"

He took one of the marbles she offered to him and inspected it. The marble made a clicking sound as he tapped it against his beaklike lips, then shook his head. "_I'll not trade a nekomata for these glass orbs, trollkin. Nope, nothing less than fairy steel or Elven silver for that little beastie, but if you're looking for small and adorable, I do have one of these..._"

The chickcharney reached under the table and brought out a smaller cage. He lifted the veil proudly and Orchid bent down to see the occupant. It was a pale blue, spiderlike fairy with four legs and a pair of small arms. Small ragged wings on its back fanned the air rapidly. It raised one hand to shield its tiny eyes from the light and chittered. "_What's that?_" she asked.

"_It's a tooth fairy,_" the vendor replied in a low voice. "_I found a colony of them in Germany and they keep multiplying every year. Not exactly legal in the strictest sense, you know, and hard to transport, but I could find it in my hearts to trade you this little darling for a dozen of those glass balls, the red ones, that is. Would you like to pet it?_"

Orchid's Troll wasn't quite good enough to decipher more than half of the chickcharney's twittering, but Wink understood everything. He caught the girl's hand as she was reaching out to touch the tooth fairy. The small mouth opened to reveal hard little teeth that gnashed at the sight of her fingertips. "_Nice try, but she doesn't want it,_" he rumbled, scowling at the vendor. The chickcharney gave him a stiff smile and the tooth fairy's cage vanished back under the table.

"_Can't blame someone for making an honest living,_" the vendor chirped.

The troll chuffed as he picked the girl up and set her back on his shoulder. "_Be careful of everything around you,_" he said to her, "_and the small things most of all. They're harder to see when they come after you._"

"_But it was cute_," she said, twisting around to look longingly at the exotic pets as Wink walked away.

"_Cute and hungry,_" he told her. "_A breeding pair of those things could wipe out everyone in a city._" And they had. Long ago, an arrogant bodach had lost a pair of tooth fairies that he was studying. In less than a week, not a living creature remained in that section of forest, except for the swarms of fairies that never ceased eating. Since then, it had become illegal for fey to transport such dangerous creatures from their natural colonies.

"_Nothing here is safe, is it?_" she asked sadly.

"_Depends on what you mean by safe_," he chuckled. "_That nekomata is a harmless ball of hair, if you get them when they're young like that one._"

"_What're we getting here?_" she asked as he stopped. Assorted clockworks, components and parts crafted from every metal imaginable were displayed on the broad, curved tables.

"_Parts,_" he replied, inspecting the wares with an artisan's eye. "_Replacement pieces for my arm and yours, a cleaning kit to replace the prince's old one..._" the troll's voice trailed off as he noticed a particularly interesting find. Wink hailed the vendor, an orange-skinned goblin half his size, and pointed. "_Let me see that._"

The goblin fetched the box, its outside covered in gold scrollwork, but a tarnished patina stained the crevices and curls of the design with black. It had a large, squared base, and the box itself was half the size of the base, standing a troll's handspan high. The peaked lid opened silently on hinges and the entire pillar followed soon after, slowly fanning open to display small parts and fine tools, with enough variety in the parts to craft a dozen toys or, with some ingenuity, more dangerous items. The goblin gave Wink a friendly smile, "'_Tis a good choice, sir, especially with a little one to train in metalworking. I have no other finer than this, so I'm afraid I can't part with this treasure for less than a hundredweight of Elven silver._"

"_It's a toy kit,_" Wink rumbled, "_not a forest god._"

"_A forest god wouldn't be so amusing to your kids,_" the goblin retorted. "_Every piece in that kit was handcrafted by the best goblin smiths and backed by me own personal guarantee. No matter what you make, or how roughly its treated, it'll always pull itself back together. There's a very specific order to undo your work for the pieces to cease fixing themselves._"

The forge nearby hissed, a wave of almost painful heat shimmering out of its belly as another goblin opened the door to toss some small, dark stones into it. Wink shrugged, his tone bored, "_Still, only toys,_" he reached into the thick, piatek-hide pouch on his belt and withdrew a rainbow-sheened clump of ore, arranged in cubic crystals. "_This and a weight of good quartz._"

The goblin scoffed harshly. "_Forgive me, sir, but I think you've mistaken me for a brownie,_" he fanned open the many drawers of the kit to display their shining contents more prominently. "_I'm certain you misheard me say _goblin craftsmanship_ and _personal guarantee_. Won't be just toys you can make, but practically any clockwork you can imagine. Fiftyweight of Elven silver, and I'd be beggaring myself to let it go for that._"

"_For fiftyweight of Elven silver,_" Wink replied, "_I expect a kit that magically refills its parts and does the crafting for me. Fiveweight of quartz, and some blue stones from the human world._" He pulled out six pieces of turquoise and showed them to the vendor.

The goblin's eyes glittered with avarice just before he shuttered his expression. "_Not shiny enough,_" he said dismissively, his beady eyes following Wink's hand as the stones went back into the pouch. "_Truly, what cruelty do you hold for poor, defenseless goblins scratching out a living for their kin? I know this will serve you well, sir, and for your little one's sake there, I could let my own children go hungry and sell it to you for twen- no, thirtyweight of Elven silver._"

"_How can your children go hungry when goblins can eat things that even trolls won't touch?_" Wink asked with a laugh. "_The quartz, ore and stones, and threeweight of-_"

"_Why not trade the human on your shoulder?_" came a rough shout from behind him.

Wink turned suddenly, the barter forgotten as the goblin hastily closed up the kit and moved it to safety. The crowd of market patrons was slowly moving back like a retreating tide to frame a trio of fey. The one in the center was a redcap, baleful black eyes glaring at Wink with a bucktoothed scowl. His feet were encased in iron boots and several iron spears bristled from his back. Next to him was a spindly, vaguely elastic ootragh almost as tall as the troll was, the yellow skin sickly and leprous-looking. Behind them crouched a malicious velgen, its six hands flexing knifelike black talons. The dark brown membranes on either side of its head fluttered as it buzzed harshly. The troll kept a careful eye on that one.

"_We're just here to do some shopping,_" Wink said carefully, reaching up with his good hand to steady Orchid in place. "_I'm not looking for trouble._"

The redcap snarled, "_No, you brought it with you._" He yanked out one of his spears, pointing it at the girl on Wink's shoulder, "_Give it up and you can keep shopping, cave troll. We'll play with it for a while then let the lamia have her turn._"

"_No,_" Wink growled. "_She's no threat to anyone here. Leave us alone._"

The smaller goblinoid stalked forward, hissing poisonously, "_Any human is a threat, and so is anything connected with them. My own mate was crushed under the wheels of a human car; my children died before they were even birthed. That thing,_" he spat, stabbing the spear in her direction, "_is the enemy, and you brought it among us!_"

Wink's massive shoulders shuddered a little. "_I have my own sorrows,_" he replied, "_but harming a child will not erase them._"

"_Maybe not for you,_" the ootragh slurred. "_Your heart turned to stone when you swore it to the prince; but the rest of us still feel, and we thirst for revenge._" He wavered slightly in place, like a strand of seaweed on a slow current. The velgen buzzed angrily, its atonal language difficult to understand, though the continued flexing of its claws was relatively clear.

"_More to the point,_" the redcap lunged for the opening the ootragh had provided, turning to the crowd around them. "_What is Nuada doing in the company of a human, even a small one? Did he not lead the campaigns against the humans, and soak their fields with blood?_" Wink glanced around quickly to see several faces were hostile and several more were nodding with the redcap's accusations. "_What hope have we, if he has turned into a human lover like the king?_"

The restless muttering of the crowd gave Wink a bad feeling. He turned his face a little to whisper to Orchid, "_Be ready to slide down my back and hide._" She nodded, her face nearly white as the malice of the redcap and his companions filled in the gaps left by her imperfect grasp of Troll. He raised his head, addressing the redcap in a voice that carried across the crowd as well. "_You are fortunate that I'm hearing your treacherous words, not your prince,_" Wink said almost mildly, his metal fingers flexing like the velgen's claws.

"_He's not my prince,_" the redcap sneered. "_A true prince would not have abandoned us to the humans!_" Louder mutterings from the crowd; one nguruvilu barked its support of the mutinous accusations. "_Nuada has taken a human pet for his own and betrayed us!_" the redcap shouted.

Wink rolled his shoulders, feeling his muscles tighten for battle. Orchid slid down his back, dropping to the ground and ducking under the goblin's table. "_Say that again,_" he growled, his massive mechanical arm coming up to crush the redcap's skull-like face.

"_You follow a traitor,_" the redcap said, giving the troll a toothed grin full of malice. "_Which makes you one too._"

With a roar of fury, Wink charged into the trio. The crowd scattered and recoiled, but his intent was on the three. The velgen tried to dodge, but the back of Wink's mechanical hand hit it with a crunching sound and it sailed up and over the heads of the crowd. The ootragh flowed out of the way of the redcap, who'd drawn a second iron spear and hurled them both at the troll. One bounced off the hard leather armor Wink wore, while the other buried itself deeply into the troll's shoulder. The pain didn't register in the slightest as Wink brought his metal hand back down in a hammer-swing.

The red goblin crouched and rolled sideways, barely avoiding the fist that made a small, crack-rimmed crater in the ground. He leaped up while Wink was bent over, coming down with another spear onto the troll's bristled back. He stabbed it downwards again and again, opening up several bleeding wounds before Wink snatched the goblinoid off his back. The troll slammed the goblin down onto the ground, the iron shoes clanging as the redcap impacted.

Behind Wink, the velgen boiled out from the shattered market stalls, the membranes buzzing furiously as it skittered, using its six arms and four legs to move like an impossibly fast spider. Wink's grip on the redcap loosed when the velgen sliced those claws over his shoulders and neck, sending sheets of dark blue blood down the troll's body. Wink grunted, only a bare acknowledgement of the pain, and twisted around to bat the velgen off his back. In his distraction, however, the redcap was able to wriggle free. He drew another of his iron spears and jabbed it down into Wink's foot, just above the hoof, and wrenched it viciously sideways. The troll bellowed, firing the metal fist at the redcap and knocking the goblinoid back to the ground.

Orchid slapped the goblin metalworker's leg from under the table, yanking his attention down. She pulled off her hat, looking up at the goblin with a pleading expression, "_Help him!_" she cried.

The vendor's face turned a light peach color from shock. He looked about furtively, then dropped down in a crouch to speak to her. "_Human,_" he whispered, "_You should stay still and make no sound._"

"_He's my friend,_" the girl said, "_Please!_"

The goblin shushed her quickly, sneaking another glance around before bending his head to her again. "_I don't know why the prince's guard is protecting you, but it'll go easier for him if he doesn't have to worry about your safety. Be quiet,_" he advised her, reaching up to push his wares forward on the table. The weight dragged the display cloth forward as well, lowering it across the front of his table like a curtain. "_And put your hat back on,_" he whispered, standing quickly and moving away.

The velgen and redcap double-teamed Wink mercilessly, each one using their superior speed and agility to distract or confound the troll while the other opened up yet another slash in the troll's blue-gray skin. Wink's many practices with Nuada had acclimated him to faster opponents, and he took the wounds without complaint, watching the other fey fall into a pattern of attack, a pattern he could anticipate with a metal fist.

A brutal punch sent the velgen flying again, this time towards the forge. Its buzz turned into a high-pitched screech as its clammy skin sizzled against the hot metal. It dropped down behind the smithy and didn't rush back in again.

The redcap threw another spear, staying out of the range of Wink's immediate grasp. It clanged harshly off the troll's metal arm as Wink batted it away. The redcap drew another spear - the last one - and readied itself to attack.

Long, rubbery tendrils lashed out and wrapped around Wink's legs and arms, and he glanced back to see the ootragh where it had fled when the fight had first begun. The elastic limbs stretched out towards him, boneless fingers and arms and tentacle-like legs, to hinder the great troll's movement. Its soft, formless face was contorted in something that might have been hate. "_Do it now_," the ootragh slurred, "_I cannot hold him long._" The redcap gave a shrill, evil laugh and charged for the troll. Wink pulled mightily at the tendrils, but they banded around his arms and hands, not strong enough to hold him immobile, but enough to throw off his reactions.

Orchid shrieked, "_No!_" and scrambled out from under the table. She drew back her gauntlet, not stopping in her rush as she punched the ootragh's soft body, the fist sinking in like she was hitting a pillow. The creature made a sibilant sound and retracted one of its tendrils, freeing one of Wink's legs. The ootragh whipped it around her legs and yanked her off her feet. Orchid twisted on the ground, reaching to dig her metal fingers into the dirt and pull herself closer to the ootragh. There was a faint look of alarm in its black, pitted eyes as she struggled to get back into the fight. "_Leave him alone!_" she screamed at it, hurling herself at it again.

The girl grabbed for one of the tendrils that still bound Wink, throwing herself forward to bite the tentacle. Cold flesh like slimy rubber parted between her teeth, squirting a fluid that tasted faintly of fish and soap into her mouth. The ootragh shrilled in pain and she punched at its rubbery form again. Another tendril released Wink's mechanical arm, retracting to wrap itself around her arms and chest. The ootragh's strength was no match for a cave troll, but more than enough for a young human as the tendril wrapped around Orchid and squeezed roughly, driving the breath from her body.

Wink, his arm freed, met the redcap's charge with a mighty roar and a single blow of that hand, knocking the goblin back again. Behind the redcap, the velgen was beginning to stir. With an angry buzz, it crawled out from behind the smithy.

Wink turned to see the ootragh and gave a savage growl. He kicked his still-bound leg away from the ootragh, jerking the stretchy fey off-balance. Surprise loosened the ootragh's coils, and Orchid managed to yank her right arm free. She lifted the gauntlet in a mirror of Wink and brought the metal fist down as hard as she could on the ootragh's head. A shudder ran through the tendrils and the creature went limp. The girl fought to breathe, her eyes widening at the velgen, "Wink!" she gasped out a warning.

The troll swung back around, catching the velgen as it leaped onto him. The black claws drew shallow slashes across his skin and Wink squeezed the velgen, hearing chitin and bone crack under his fingers. The spidery creature screeched again, its triangular head whipping from side to side. The redcap got to his feet, looking at the situation before him. The rictus mouth stretched in a victory smile and he turned to pull an unfinished red-hot sword from the forge. Wink's eyes narrowed at the goblinoid and he bellowed a challenge to him. The redcap saluted him mockingly, then charged.

But not at Wink.

The redcap brought the sword up to his shoulder in a two-handed grip, his black eyes aflame with hate, and lunged for Orchid, still entangled in the limbs of the unconscious ootragh.

Wink dropped the velgen and whipped his body around, lashing out with his right arm. The velgen, partially broken, surged back up, its long talons aimed to stab deeply into Wink's throat. A flash of white moved within the crowd. The metal fist closed over the redcap's head and the fingers tightened convulsively. The goblin's skull collapsed with a thick pop, sending dribbles of blue-green brain matter squirting from between the troll's fingers. The sword fell from its dead hand to sizzle against the earth.

The velgen's buzz dropped to a low whine, the talons going slack. Wink turned his attention back to it, and they both looked down to see a lethal spear of Elven silver running through its body from left hip to right shoulder. The membranes on its head fluttered weakly once, then the velgen collapsed.

Nuada let its body fall, setting one foot on the head to draw his spear free of the corpse.

A ghastly silence had fallen over the market. Every fey stared at the two corpses, velgen and redcap. Wink opened his hand and let the dead goblinoid fall to the ground. His chest heaved with exertion and the first sensations of pain, and he pulled at the ootragh's tendrils, peeling them off his body.

"_To attack my vassals is to attack me,_" Nuada said, his commanding voice ringing out in the silence. His eyes blazed with fury as he turned onto the crowd. "_Do any of you dare to continue such treachery?_"

Nobody moved. Nobody breathed.

Nuada turned his attention to Wink, his enraged eyes hardening at the many wounds on his friend. "_Can you walk out of here?_" he asked the troll quietly.

Wink nodded slightly. The shallow cuts were beginning to draw closed, but the deeper wounds on his back and neck would take longer to seal themselves up. He discarded the tendrils, then shook the redcap's gore from his hand.

"_Then go at your own pace, my friend,_" the prince told him. "_Let me be the one to guard your back._"

The prince spared a sideways glance at Orchid, the girl struggling to free herself from the ootragh. She finally dragged herself out of the loops and stood unsteadily, her hat forgotten on the ground behind her.

An angry muttering rippled through the crowd. It quelled as Nuada turned his fierce glare back onto the spectators. The girl ran to Wink's side, tucking herself under his good arm, as if to help support the much-heavier troll. He cupped that hand around her shoulder, leaving a smear of troll and goblinoid blood on her clothes. Taking a breath to steady himself, Wink trudged slowly towards the entrance back to the human world, the crowd parting before him.

Nuada followed, outwardly composed, but inwardly alert to another attack. He had heard Wink's roaring, and that sound had brought him racing from across the market to find his friend beset. The prince gauged the reaction of the crowd, and the situation of the fight itself. The muttering of the crowd disturbed him, not because of the possibility of more assassins, but because the additional complications of accepting a human into service had just emerged.


	7. Chapter 6

_AN: I'm sorry this took so long; work has been hell. More chapters to come this weekend. Prince Nuada is a hard taskmaster._

* * *

After the fiasco of the troll market, Orchid never asked again. For a time, she shadowed Wink more closely than usual, running to fetch him his tools or perform other small services though the troll was long healed from the confrontation. Eventually her anxious fawning went back to its normal level and life returned, somewhat, to normal as well, with her tagging along with the troll wherever he went. However, since the order to cease spying still stood, the troll's reconnaissance above was conducted alone. She was permitted to accompany him for the occasional foray to scavenge provisions, largely because Nuada preferred silence to the random babbling of a human.

Two fey had died, one human had lived. It was not an uncommon equation during the wars, at the hands of humans. However, those two fey had died by his and Wink's hands, and Nuada brooded over it constantly. The death of the velgen he had finally managed to settle in his mind; he'd seen the creature poised to tear out his friend's throat, and his reactions had taken over. There was no crime nor shame in a prince killing any fey that attacked his royal guard. No, that was not what blackened his mood at night after Wink had gone to sleep. It was the death of the redcap. For a human's sake.

Wink had said it was an accident; he'd only meant to catch the goblinoid, not kill it. He, too, had allowed his reactions to take over. Nuada believed him, and yet there was something odd about the girl's behavior towards Wink, and his to her. Thus far, the prince could not pin down precisely what it was; that was a riddle he kept to himself, to inspect when other matters were not foremost in his thoughts.

Nuada paced restlessly along the tunnels, describing a large circuit that brought him back to the den; he was unwilling to tolerate the human's presence while Wink was out, not with such thoughts as these. He mentally filtered through the bits of gossip gleaned from a discreet visit back to the market. What he'd heard had made him stiffen with shock. It had not occurred to him that by taking a human servant, his own people might see him as a traitor, as a pet of the humans like his father had become. He had believed they had more faith in their prince than that.

He was drawn between his oath to avenge and protect the fey, and his obligations as a liege lord to a retainer. There had to be a way to reconcile both without breaking either vow. He had considered ordering Wink to get rid of his pet, making the girl's life miserable until she ran away on her own, and even setting her on more and more difficult tasks until she failed them, thereby giving him a perfectly sound reason to dismiss her.

They were intriguing fantasies to indulge in, however, his personal honor would not abide any such underhanded course of action. Failing to consider every possible consequence of having a human retainer was due to no one's lack of forethought but his own. It rankled, but he could not deny that he had acted rashly.

_Let her prove herself... if she can._ His own damning words echoed back to him from the darkness.

He sighed, coming to a stop within sight of the hollowed out space that served as their refuge. Orchid was practicing with her stone hammer, repeating the same strike over and over before switching the weapon around to exercise her off-hand. A rag bag filled with paper, scraps and other soft refuse was set against the wall, on a protruding stone roughly waist-high. Nuada's own preference was for weapons with which he could take full advantage of his speed and reflexes, not something so clumsy or dependent on luck and strength as the hammer, but even he could tell she was executing the swing incorrectly.

He rolled his eyes as she lost her balance again. A person poorly skilled in battle was worse than one trained not at all. Ineptitude was a danger to everyone around the fighter.

The Elf approached the den more slowly than his earlier strides as he evaluated her with a commander's eye. The target fell from its perch and she replaced it, stepping back to take aim once more. Frequent practicing with that hammer had built up some muscle, but not ideally so since the wrong angle of her swings and balance had interfered with that development. Her footing was uncertain, her grip even more so. Nuada could vividly imagine the hammer slipping from her hands and crashing into the wall. As he watched, however, he began to notice that except for occasional deviance, she was managing to hit generally the same spot on the rag-filled bundle.

"Open your stance more," he said levelly.

She started and spun to face him, nearly dropping the hammer. "Your Highness?"

"Your stance," he repeated, his words empty of any expression. "The placement of your feet. Wink is much broader in shoulder and has more bulk to offset the weight of his fist. You should not copy what he does."

The human stared at him for a moment, and it occurred to him that this was the first time he had initiated conversation with her that did not involve telling her to be quiet. Her surprise only lasted for a few seconds and she looked down at her feet, shifting them farther apart. "Like that?"

He nodded slightly and she tried again. This time, her balance was not so precarious, but she did dart sideways glances at him as he stood watching her critically, arms crossed over his chest. Her aim was worse than before, as the majority of her attention seemed to be on him. "Focus on your target," he said. "You should be aware of what's around you, but not distracted."

Orchid nodded. "Thank you," she said quietly as she turned her full attention back to the padded target. Her hair was tied back carelessly, with strands straggling out to stick to her damp forehead. The hammer sank into the target with a muffled thud, bursting it at the crude seams and spilling its contents upon the floor. She blew a frustrated breath out from between her teeth and laid the hammer down to clean up the mess. Among the refuse that she stuffed back into the bag, a crumpled mass mailer postcard caught his eye. A picture of Orchid, out of focus and some years younger, smiled toothily from it. Above the picture, bold letters proclaimed _Missing_.

She picked it up as absently as if it were nothing more than any other piece of trash and stuffed it back into the bag with the rest. Pulling a long piece of twine from her pocket, she poked the end through the rough weave of the bag, slowly stitching the rent closed. The girl looked at him again, still watching her impassively, and asked, "May I ask you something, your Highness?"

He gave a single nod.

"Do you think I'll be as good as you or Wink someday?"

"No," he replied. "You have not a troll's strength, nor an Elf's reactions. And your lifespan is far too short to permit you enough experience for your skill to approach either of ours."

Clearly, it was not what she wanted to hear, as she bit her lip and looked down, but she nodded her acceptance meekly. "Would it make you mad if I try anyway?" she asked, glancing back up at him.

Nuada pondered that for a moment, then said, "Persisting, despite all circumstances against you, is an honorable thing. You may continue to do so, if you can inure yourself to the many times you will fall short of expectations."

She considered his words gravely, then nodded again. "I don't like doing things wrong, your Highness, but Wink says it's the only way to learn, so..." she shrugged as if that completed the sentence. She'd been doing that rather often in recent weeks, and Wink seemed to understand the expression. Nuada still kept expecting a full statement.

"Actually," he fought a twitch of his lips as the remembered lessons came back to him, "what he was taught, what I was taught, was that the only way to learn is to get hit. Frequently. It's far better to take a light beating from a master that cares for your skill, than to die at the hands of an enemy that only cares for your blood."

The human scrubbed a hand across her damp forehead, pushing back the strands of hair stuck to it and stood to replace the target on its stone. "That makes sense, I guess," she said doubtfully. "But it sounds like a lot of bruises."

"Quite," Nuada replied. Once Wink got over his initial hesitation about harming the prince, the practice sessions with the troll had reached an intensity of muscle strain and battering that none of the weapon masters ever gave him. "Pain has been a better teacher to both of us than any other instructor."

She frowned suddenly as she picked up her hammer again to resume. "I don't think I can practice with Wink like you do. First time he hits me, I think I might pop."

The image that created in his mind was far too risible and he glanced away before his mouth twitched again. Instead, he closed the distance to his pallet in three even paces and picked up his sword. Turning back to the girl, he saw her eyes widen nervously at the curved blade glimmering in the firelight. He spun it around his hands, reacquainting himself with its balance; he didn't practice with this weapon nearly so often as his beloved spear. "Targets do not retaliate or force you to improvise at a moment's notice," he said, walking towards her with that sword held to one side. "They are good for practicing a single maneuver over and over, but after that..."

He raised the sword, fitting the notch at the tip under the haft of her hammer and with a deft flick of his wrist tore it out of her hands and sent it clattering away. The sword flashed back to the side of her neck and she stiffened with fright. Nuada held the silver blade there, the edge just barely pressing into her skin.

"After that, you must rely on someone else to fight back as hard as any foe you will ever face."

She gulped hard and nodded. "Is... is that why you practice with Wink?" she asked.

His eyes were drawn down to the edge of the blade indenting her skin and he imagined for a moment just a little more pressure, a parting of skin and flesh, the bursting flood of crimson. Another human, nameless and useless, unlamented by anyone, least of all her own kind. Nuada withdrew the sword. "Among other reasons," he said mildly. "He is my vassal-"

"What's a vessel?" she asked, rubbing the pink line where the sword had rested.

The look he gave her was dark with supreme annoyance at the interruption. Her eyes dropped and he continued. "Vassal," he corrected, "is a trusted retainer, someone upon whom I can rely for any service." And, among true nobility, a position of absolute trust and closeness that few outside of the blood would ever understand or know.

"Does that mean you could make him do something he doesn't like?"

"If I were human, yes," he said, the ever-present sneer in his voice whenever he had to say that word. "However, he is my friend and I respect him. While I can order him to do anything, and as a royal guard he is bound by honor to do so, I will not waste his time or mine with such frivolity."

"Is that why he trains to fight, because he's your guard?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Then why do you train?"

The prince sighed and flipped his sword about, resting the pommel in his hand with the back edge of the blade alongside his arm. If all human children were this annoying, it was no wonder they bred like rabbits so that at least some might survive beyond the stage of irritating others into murder. "I train because I will not stand idly by while my people are slaughtered by the ravenous spread of humans. I train so that I will not become some useless decoration like so many of the nobles of my kind. Most importantly, I train so that should he die in service to me, I may avenge him." His face, pale against the darkness of his clothes, was implacable. "The death of a royal guard demands an answer."

Orchid looked shocked; had she never considered Wink might die protecting Nuada? What in the name of the Four did she think a royal bodyguard did? Her jaw set and her chin lifted stubbornly - the first truly adolescent expression he'd seen on her face - and she went over to the hammer where it lay in a puddle of brackish water. She shook the fluids off it, wiping the hammer with her sleeve to clean it somewhat, and came back to him. "In that case," she said, "I think you need to start beating me up."

A single white eyebrow arched in amusement. "Oh?"

The girl nodded solemnly, lifting the hammer up to her shoulder. "He protects you; I'm gonna protect him. That means I need to get better quick." Her defiant stare faltered against the stony look her gave her and she added, "Um, if that's okay with you, your Highness."

"What makes you think you can protect him?" Nuada asked, sarcasm flavoring his voice. "Do you somehow think that a few swings with a toy makes you his equal or superior in battle?"

If his words stung, she only set her jaw more stubbornly. "Nope," she said. "But I'm small, so it's harder to see me coming."

Three years ago, he never would have imagined a skinny human brat would have the temerity to approach him so, or with such an odd purpose. Nuada looked at her, weighing her past shortcomings against her future potential. The balance was not in her favor, but... one characteristic of humans that showed itself over and over through the wars had been their startling ability to rise above their own limitations. That had never earned his respect, like it had his father's, it had only meant that some humans were more of a surprise in battle than others.

Perhaps, with time, stubbornness and training, she might manage to do the same. As she'd said, her small size was an advantage; any enemy preoccupied with him or Wink would likely not notice her. At the very least, he wouldn't have to endure seeing such a degree of ineptitude any longer; amateurish floundering made the warrior within him cringe. "In that case," he said slowly, "we'll begin now."

With that as the only warning, he disarmed her again, eliciting a gasp of surprise as she lost her weapon for the second time in as many minutes. The sharp clatter of stone against stone echoed throughout the tunnels. He pointed in the direction in which it had gone, a dangerous half-smile upon his face as his sword came up once more.

"Lesson one, keep your weapon. Your task is to retrieve it, if you can."

It was difficult to remember to pull his blows, or to turn the blade so that the flat smacked against her body rather than the deadly edge. He and Wink had grown into a long tradition of not holding back in any regard with each other when they practiced, and his muscles kept telling him that his opponent was a hardy, powerful cave troll and not a soft, uncoordinated adolescent human. His instincts were harder to fight, as every one of them thrilled to battle with a human again, and he had to keep reminding himself that now was a time of training, not killing.

Once the standard attempts to dart around him were met with painful blocks and bruising thwacks of his sword, she retreated from him to rethink her tactic. He remained between her and the weapon, his sword held loosely in one hand as he waited for her to try once more to do as he'd ordered. Orchid ran around him again, her body tensing to change direction as he intercepted her. His reactions, honed by aeons of combat, caught the change in her rush and he spun back around to slap her across the cheek with the flat of his sword when she switched her path to his other side. The human yelped and recoiled, one hand going to that cheek as her eyes filled with tears. Her jaw clenched again and the hand came back down, balling into an obstinate fist as she charged back in. Already, the pink stripe of the blow was darkening to purple, edged with a thin red line.

Again, he blocked her, this time with a heavier blow to her side than he'd meant. Though she coughed harshly as her wind was knocked out of her, she did not retreat again. She lunged to his left, going low to duck under his blade. Nuada recognized the crude feint for what it was and obliged her with a feint to meet her own. Then, when she dodged to the other side, his booted foot lashed out, catching her square in the chest and sending her sprawling on the ground, gulping for air. For a moment, it looked as though she might remain on the ground where he'd put her, but after gasping several times, she struggled back up to her feet. The look she gave him was an odd mix of her customary reverence and a fresh, angry hatred.

"If you no longer wish to learn, all you need do is say as such," he said, giving her the same opportunity his earliest weapon masters had given him.

Her head shook resentfully and without hesitation. She stared at him warily, and he could see in her eyes a quick recall of each attempt and how he'd foiled them. Her eyebrows drew together in a determined frown as she decided upon a new course of action and rushed in again.

Movement down the tunnel caused his eyes to flicker that way. Wink had returned, approaching slowly and with that disquieting silence that trolls could employ upon stone. The girl teased Wink on occasion about that particular knack, saying that the troll was "being shy." The craggy features were almost comical in their surprise as he watched his prince actively training his pet. Wink stopped far enough back in the darkened passage that Orchid's human eyes would not notice him and observed the lesson.

What Nuada thought would last for mere minutes, if that, continued for more than an hour. She dodged and ducked and ran as fast as she could, trying to avoid him long enough to get to the hammer. There was a cut on her chin that bled freely, from when he had tripped her and she'd landed nearly flat on her stomach, her teeth slamming together with an audible clack when her chin struck the ground. Another cut showed through a rent in her sleeve, a reminder to Nuada to continue turning his blade. Long after her breath came in harsh pants and her movements slowed with exhaustion, she persisted. He kept her from her goal with utmost ease, evaluating her movements with the same critical eye with which he'd watched her with earlier.

Finally, the bruises seemed to wear away her mulishness. The stubborn chin quavered with unwanted tears and her hands shook with weariness as she hesitated to try once again to get to her hammer. The anger had bled away with her energy, taking with it much of her bravado. She rubbed the cut on her arm with her other hand, bowing her head with ungracious resignation.

He nodded, acknowledging the capitulation and lowered his sword, walking away from the girl and her hammer. He heard her uneven steps as she went to fetch it, and the heavier tread of the troll as Wink approached. His sword he put back in its resting place beside his pallet after cleaning the slight traces of blood she'd left upon it.

"Wink..." he heard her half-moan, half-sob and glanced back to see her stagger over to hug the troll.

Her next words were muffled against Wink's abdomen and the troll very gently patted her back. "It will hurt for a long time," he rumbled quietly. "But if you continue, it will take more and more to give you pause, until only a mighty blow can fell you in battle."

More muffled words; Wink looked up at Nuada. The prince could very nearly read the list of questions in his friend's eyes, several of which plagued Nuada as well. He shrugged a little, accepting his responsibility as a liege lord, and Wink nodded in understanding, turning his attention back to the girl.

"Continue to move about," he said, tilting her face up to look at him with a thick finger under her chin. He wiped away the drying blood with a light touch. "If you do not, your hurts will stiffen and settle deeper into your flesh, and you will be unable to move at all come morning."

"Really?" she sniffed, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand.

The troll nodded. "Stay limber, especially when you're in pain. Otherwise, your next lesson will be much worse."

"My next lesson?" she asked him, twisting to look over her shoulder at Nuada. The bruise crossing her cheek from ear to the corner of her mouth was nearly black in the dim light. Nuada half-expected another petulant glare like the one she'd given him earlier, and it surprised him a little that the callow resentment was absent from her expression.

He nodded briefly, giving her a stern look. "You failed to retrieve your weapon this time. I expect you to perform better tomorrow." Though a nervous look crossed her face, she bowed her head in acceptance, again sending a flicker of surprise through him. Perhaps training the human wouldn't be a complete farce after all.


	8. Chapter 7

_AN: There's a bit more creative time hopping here. Doing a day-by-day story would be dull beyond belief, since all they can do for much of that time is wait for a high-profile divorce to finalize. By the grace of the Four, however, that's happened, so the pace can finally pick up! (8/2) Added an edit based on Wednesday's suggestion. :-)  
_

_PS - Goblin fighting, as I imagine it, is a rough bastard of street brawling, improvised weapon self-defense, and a nifty French "martial art" called parkour... In all three, the conditioning of the mind is as much, if not more important, than the conditioning of the body. I spend way too much time on Wikipedia._

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The next lesson, and every lesson thereafter, surely must have felt more like sanctioned abuse than training. Whether she'd been warned by Wink, or had already realized the hazard on her own, Nuada received no complaint, churlish behavior or ill temper, beyond the anger from the blows. That he could forgive and even identify with; his own bruises and mistakes in weapons practice fueled an anger that was always directed at himself first, though he took it out on his sparring partner. Every time he disarmed her, it started the old game of keeping her from getting to the hammer, with a sharp smack from the flat of his sword or heavy kick whenever she failed to avoid him.

Gradually, she began to better learn to keep her grip on her weapon. Orchid wore her gauntlet during the practices and used it to deflect his sword, more often than not by sheer accident. For the amount of time that she managed to keep the hammer, he set her through patterns of attack and defense that forced her to use not only that hammer, but her other hand, her feet and everything in between. It was the lowest of goblin-style dirty fighting, hardly anything like the lethal fluidity of his own attacks or the unstoppable force of Wink's, but in its own way undeniably effective. It was also the quickest style to learn, since such lofty ideals as form and grace were abandoned. Goblin fighting relied upon striking any point on any opponent, with anything at hand, no matter how bizarre or unlikely the improvised weapon might be. Whatever adolescent awkwardness she had was ruthlessly pounded out during training.

It was during one such training session that she seemed to finally understand the fundamental purpose of goblin fighting. During another game of "keep away," as Orchid had named it, Nuada hooked one foot behind hers and shoved her back hard. Instead of hitting flat on her back like she often did, her body went limp and raglike, curling and rolling with the force of the push. Coming back up in a crouch on hands and feet, she scampered, still on all fours, to the right and propelled herself in a slide along the wet floor. He darted to intercept, intent on the gauntlet that she held to block his sword. For a brief second, he wasn't watching her other arm.

A handful of questionable fluids from the sewers hit him right in the face, though too low to blind him. Nuada dropped with one knee bent and spun, his other leg snapping out in a swift kick. The girl rolled sideways, still sliding on the floor, and caught herself with one foot on the rough surface of the farther wall in the tunnel. His boot scraped down her back, but not with enough force to stop her. Before her momentum had stopped, she kicked off the stone wall, sending herself into another raglike tumble back across that turned into a dive-and-tumble over his extended leg. The hammer was within inches of her hand, and he twisted his body back around, the pommel of his sword coming about in a reverse swing to catch her as she went for it.

Instead of lunging for the hammer, however, she let the tumble carry her past the arc of his swing before it connected. She twisted as she rolled, ending up on her hands and feet again facing him. She reached into one of her pockets with her bare hand, then pulled it out and thrust that hand towards him in a throwing motion. His muscles flinched, reacting to bring up his sword to deflect another handful of something vile from his face, but what sparkled in the firelight in a low barrage of clittering were marbles. A lot of them. Nuada stared down in disbelief at the many small orbs rolling across the floor and around his feet. _That little..._

Orchid rushed at him again, staying low to the ground and moving with arms and legs like a goblinoid. She hurled herself into his legs and he jumped high over her, his feet sliding out from under him as he landed on marbles. He growled as he caught himself with one hand on the ground, the other holding his sword out to the side. He kicked some of the infernal spheres away with an Elven oath. As she lunged for the hammer, he swung his lower body around and forward, pushing off with his arm to slide across the rolling marbles towards her, feet first. Her breath left her in a surprised rush as one booted foot hit her high in the chest, throwing her off her momentum and sending her rolling away. The other scraped against the floor, halting his motion. He lifted his head, looking down the line of his body at her where she'd come to a stop, facing away from him. Her shoulders began shaking.

"Creative," he said gruffly, a hint of grudging approval at the tactic. Those little marbles hurt where they pressed into his muscles, but he refused to shift his weight.

A faint, almost sobbing sound came from where she curled in on herself. His firegold eyes rolled in annoyance; he'd thought she'd foregone those useless tears whenever she was hurt in practice. To his surprise, however, she pushed herself up onto her knees and looked at him, her face alight with breathless giggling. That single look at him sent her into more laughter and he scowled at her. Orchid pointed at him with her gauntlet. "Your face..." she gasped. "Something's stuck to your face."

He reached up, feeling something soft and sticky on his cheek. Nuada pulled it away to look at it, his mouth turning downwards at the gooey yellow-black patch of slimy fungus that had been there. "And you think this is amusing?" he grumbled.

Her laughter, beginning to quiet, started up again and she held her stomach helplessly. "N-no, your Highness..." she said, her mirth proving the lie in her words. "...but it looked like - like some kind of flower on your face..." Again she howled with laughter, gasping as she held herself. "Oh jeez, this hurts..."

Humans. His mouth turned downwards in a scowl that didn't really touch him and he flicked the soft fungus away to the floor with a tiny splat. Nuada rolled to his side and got to his feet, sweeping one foot in an arc to clear away more marbles. A shimmer of anger at the possibility that she might be mocking him came and went, shouldered aside by his confusion as to why she was laughing so hard. It wasn't that amusing.

"You- you're really going to hurt me later, aren't you?" she asked, wiping water from her eyes with her thumb, still grinning broadly.

"I think," he replied dryly, "that you can rely upon that." He looked down at himself to see what else might have stuck to him. He fastidiously picked away a long, stringy bit of something soft and disgusting from his shoulder, shaking it off his hand with a frown.

Orchid giggled again, a bright, annoying sound that was rarely set loose, and then most often in Wink's company. Nuada had been getting used to the noise very slowly. "I don't care," she said, tucking her feet under her to sit on her heels. "I got closer to that hammer than I've ever gotten before."

In his mind's eye, he saw again how narrow the space between the weapon and her fingertips had been as she tumbled past his strike. He was going to have to increase the difficulty of her lessons. Nuada felt something wet and spongy just inside his collar and scooped it out, getting rid of it without looking at what it was. Just how much muck could she hold in one hand? "You did," he admitted, setting his sword back into its place. Light glimmered along the edge and splintered on a darkness there. He picked it up again and peered at it closely, then turned to her as he cleaned the blade. "Where did I cut you?"

Her grin still in place, she patted the outside of her left thigh, where the cloth of her pants was parted near her knee. Her unarmored hand opened the rent in the cloth and she scrutinized it. "It's not gushing or anything," she said, turning her head to look down at the wound. "Bleeding just enough to stay clean."

"Good," he said absently, replacing his sword by the pallet. "And pick up your marbles," he added as he took up his halfspear.

For some reason, that set her off in another fit of giggles as she obeyed. Nuada shook his head, wondering if he was ever going to fully understand humans. He waited until every last of the orbs had been collected, then motioned her aside so he would have enough room in which to practice. Training her took up a space of time during which he would otherwise have nothing else constructive to do, but it concerned him that he might be losing his own edge by playing down to her level. As a result, his own exercises he took far more seriously than ever.

Before he began, however, he heard her clear her throat and address him respectfully, "Your Highness?"

"Yes?"

"Can I go above for a little while?" she asked. "I want to see if I can get some hot dogs for Wink."

He repressed a small shudder. "Very well," the prince said. It was on the tip of his tongue to add some admonishment about not taking too long, but he kept it behind his teeth. She knew the rules. "If you intend, however, to acquire them through questionable means, you had best bathe before doing so. You reek more than you usually do."

"Might be enough to drive the vendors away from their carts," she said impishly. He gave her a flat look, one that used to intimidate her, but she just grinned now instead. "Just kidding, your Highness. Thank you for the reminder."

His hair slid over his shoulders as he bowed his head graciously, just barely catching himself before saying something of equal dignity. Past and present slid away as he cleared his mind to focus on the thrust, spin and cut of shadow combat. Orchid watched him for a few minutes, then fetched a wad of semi-clean clothes from her corner and trotted down the tunnel to the broken pipe. She returned a few minutes later, taking a wide arc around the Elf and his flashing spear, with her dripping hair creating dark cascades of moisture at the shoulders and back of her shirt. The fouled clothing was carelessly tossed at the end of her nest and she looked in his direction again.

As he completed a complex kick-and-roll, in that width of moments between one manuever and the next, she asked, "While I'm up there, uh... is there anything you want?"

"No," he replied shortly, shutting out the den once more. Orchid sighed a little and left, taking the satchel and her gauntlet.

Nuada lost himself in the infinite cycle of attack, defend, press forward. He sprang from floor to wall and back again, setting his feet against pillars and pipes to heave himself into increasingly more acrobatic flips and rolls. He didn't imagine a variety of foes; this was just becoming familiar once again with the air and its currents, and the way it whispered to his ears and across his skin. Nuala had once called it revisiting the sky. Nuada didn't have words for how it felt to almost fly.

Then he landed, a small spot of pain under the ball of his foot. His eyes widened in surprise as the marble rolled, taking his balance with it. One leg stayed where he meant it to, the other went in the opposite direction, nearly dropping the prince to the ground with his legs splayed nearly horizontal to the floor before he caught himself with both hands. He turned his head, giving the small blue marble a forbidding glower through the veil of his hair. It made a gentle clittering sound as it rolled away. The orb was dark enough to have been overlooked by the girl when she cleaned up the rest and he sighed. He glanced around, since his face was already at nearly the same level as the ground, searching for any other marbles waiting to ambush him.

Finding none, except the one that came to a stop near the hearth, he tilted his weight forward onto his hands, lifting his body up with only the strength of his back and shoulders. He balanced on his hands for a moment, then pushed off against the ground, his hands leaving the stone as his muscled form flipped back over onto his feet. He went over to pick up the blue marble, shaking his head. She was going to have to learn to be more careful with her toys. Nuada tossed the marble over to her corner and returned to his exercises.

Presently, he became aware of someone else in his sky and he finished an especially athletic flip and twist, landing easily in a low crouch on both feet and one hand. Nuada glanced up, and a smile warmed his features. "Welcome back," he told Wink.

"Blackwood's," the troll said without preamble. "In four months' time. The crown piece was shipped to New York this morning."

The smile broadened, turning into a feral expression of long-denied victory. Nuada straightened abruptly, his exercise forgotten. "Then we'll leave tonight. For what reason will this auction be delayed?"

"It's a show," Wink replied, and even his tolerance for human culture could not sweeten the bitter disdain in his rough words. "The auction house is gathering relics of pre-Christian Europe; all of which will be sold off to rich humans in a single night."

Nuada held naught but contempt for many of those pre-Christian human societies, but the knowledge that those primeval artifacts were going to be handed off carelessly to those that knew nothing of their significance was repugnant. It was not merely greed, nor even insanity; it was humanity. "What manner of relics?" he asked.

The great troll shook his head, "I don't know all of them," he said. "Figueroa mentioned a fertility statue that would need to clear customs, and a triple-visage mask that will be consigned in fifteen weeks."

Hence, the four months, Nuada realized. The endless stretch of time that encompassed their search was suddenly coming up short. Traveling to New York was a minor matter; finding the crown piece somewhat more of a consideration. Gaining access to it would likely be the most difficult part of the plan. He looked around their den, what had been a poor home but a home nonetheless for a span of years. Nuada quickly calculated how long it would take both veteran warriors to break camp, assemble their gear and leave. "We have no time to waste, then," he said, going to his pallet to begin packing.

On the other side of the den, Wink mirrored his prince's actions. He paused, his stone tools half-unpacked and looked around. "Where is Orchid?" he asked.

Nuada shrugged. "She went above some time ago. I know not where." His spare clothes were laid between the blanket and the pallet, then the entire thing was rolled up tightly and secured with tough, brownie-made rope. The trinket-chest was packed with much more care, along with the two books he kept with him. One was an ancient text describing the Father Tree and the creation of the races and the rest of the world; the other was a book of poetry that Nuala favored. Nuada didn't care much for flowery prose, but embracing verses that held significance for his twin helped, for him, to narrow the distance between them.

"Are we waiting for her, then?" Wink asked after a long silence.

"Why would we?" Nuada returned. He halted his packing and looked up at Wink, noting that the tools were still out of their pouch. He frowned slightly, "My friend, you knew you had to leave your pet when it was time for us to move on. Did I not speak clearly on that matter?"

The troll frowned. "No, you didn't."

"Yes I did."

Nuada could see the denial in the troll's amber-green eyes, though Wink was loyal enough not to voice it. A bodyguard did not argue with his prince. "Then, Sire," he said with a note of formality, "I ask that you reconsider your decision."

The Elf stared at him, incredulous. "Why would I do that? She cannot keep up with the pace of travel we will maintain."

"I will make sure she keeps up," the troll said. He still didn't pack his tools.

A scowl began to cloud over Nuada's pale features. "She knows nothing of New York and will be as vulnerable as a babe left in the wildnerness," he added.

"She would be vulnerable here, too."

The scowl fully manifested. "She will most likely continue living down here; and she knows this cesspit of a city well enough to stay out of trouble."

"This den will collapse in a few years," Wink reminded him.

Nuada cinched his pack shut with brusque motions. He had forgotten that, and the old disregard for the human lives lost in the approaching disaster no longer settled lightly on his heart. He still had no care whatsoever for the oblivious cattle above, but the collapse wouldn't only kill them... He shook his head sharply, pushing the matter from his mind. "The girl is useless," he said coldly. "An amusing distraction for you, perhaps, but nothing more than a pet."

Wink glanced down, the fingers of his good hand fidgeting with the tools. The thick, spiny bristles of his back drooped a little.

Nuada stared at his friend. "Wink..." he said slowly, feeling a cloak of something unnameable beginning to gather itself about him. That old riddle of their interaction came back to him and he dreaded what certain nuances in voice and body might mean. "She _is _just a pet, isn't she?"

The troll sighed and slid his tools into their pouch with care. "Not after she swore oath to you, Sire."

The prince closed his eyes and turned his head away, a lifetime of profanity both lyrical and discordant rattling through his mind. Four help him, he'd actually forgotten that in his excitement to be finally within reach of his goal. He rested his head on his hand, with only his first two fingers and thumb touching his brow and the curve of his cheekbone. Firegold eyes slitted open, looking over at Wink to see the troll was looking right back at him. Nuada rubbed a hand over his face. Oaths of service were not one-sided; there were specific obligations demanded of both. Liege lord to retainer, as well as retainer to liege lord. "You're right," he said at last with heavy reluctance, leaning back to rest bonelessly against the wall, staring up at the rough ceiling of the den.

After all, why had Wink spent so much time training her? Why had Nuada? More to the point, why had he tolerated her presence for so long that it had become simply a part of everything else around them, like the warmth of the firepit or the constant gurgling of the sewers? Nuada knew full why he did what he had done, at the time that he'd done it... but now, the reasons were not so clearly defined as before. If she was his vassal - and by oaths given and received, she was - did that negate the fact that she was human?

And if so, did that make her one of his people?

A perverse spirit of irony within him felt that Nuala would find this all highly amusing. She wouldn't laugh, nor even smile. Nor would she call attention to his own mistakes. She would just look at him with those lovely gold eyes filled with understanding. _Dearest brother_, he could almost hear her soft whisper and see the pearl-like fairness of her skin. _Does it matter, when compared to what is right? Which course would be less honorable?_

It was his own execrable misfortune that the voice of his conscience sounded exactly like her. He could never deny his other half anything.

"I suppose it would be... unbecoming of a prince to travel without his entire retinue," he said to the ceiling. Nuada tilted his head back down to look at Wink.

The troll's expression relaxed into relief, underlaid with an odd gratitude. His friend nodded, the glint of humor back in his eyes and suddenly Nuada did not mind so much the addition of the human. "Most unbecoming," he agreed.


	9. Chapter 8

_AN: A couple of people have asked me about Wink's son (referenced in Ch 3) and I have to admit that I didn't have much more than a vague idea in my mind at first. Over the past few days that began to coalesce into something definite, and demanded to be written. Warning: I was in a really dark mood when the inspiration came a-knockin'..._

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The devastation was total. Only the strongest of the stone caves still stood intact; many others had collapsed, trapping humans and trolls alike in living tombs. Dozens of surviving cave trolls and a few of their mountain brethren labored to clear the passages and free the suffocating victims, or at least to open them enough to get air to the trapped fey. The digging was slow, the trolls taking care not to let the fragile caves collapse further, but every one of them was wild-eyed with desperation. The faint pleas for help from those entombed within were beginning to fade.

The human raid on the Earthflame caverns had been an unexpected blow, but one that all of the military commanders, most especially Prince Nuada, felt the fey should have anticipated. Though humanity seemed to be forgetting of the fey's existence, there were pockets that still knew of the world beyond their own. They knew, and they lusted for the wonders therein. In supreme compassion, or supreme weakness, Balor forgave the humans every time they initiated violence.

The battle had been a fierce one, taking place when the sun was highest in the sky and the nocturnal trolls were at their greatest disadvantage. Humans armored with steel and carrying rough axes and rudimentary guns had swarmed into the caves, attacking anything that didn't resemble them. Many of them snatched up trophies - bloody tusks wrenched out, goblin metalwork stolen, even young fey were snatched up and carried away in triumph. The trolls, though surprised, quickly rallied and began to drive out the intruders.

Then a stray gunshot had struck the stores of sparkpowder, and the result was as if the hammer of the gods had come down upon them. The very earth itself screamed as the explosions ripped it open, sending blasts of smoke and fire through the subterranean lairs. Fey and trolls, male and female, young and old, were scorched and battered by the force of the shock. The smaller caverns and weaker walls cracked and buckled, dropping tons of stone to crush and bury the families in the lower depths where the domiciles were.

The humans had been terrified by the explosions and retreated hastily from the caves that had turned into a death trap for everyone, human and fey alike. It was a bitter balm for the trolls that fully half of the human invaders had been buried with their kin as well.

Though the prince had voluntarily gone into exile from his kind, he refused to punish Wink for sharing in that exile. His friend had a family - two brothers, a wife and a young son - whom the prince and his friend visited regularly at the Earthflame caverns. It was during one such visit that the human attack had sprung. Nuada and Wink had charged into battle, side by side with the trolls, and driven the humans back. They had become separated in the fighting when the sparkpowder had ignited. The humans had been routed and a party of scouts set out in immediate pursuit, while the rest of the fey had turned to rescue their loved ones. The living were more important than revenge. Even trolls that were gravely burned worked, ignoring the seared wounds that would not heal without magical aid.

Right after the battle, Nuada had been among the other survivors, tearing away the broken rock that blocked the caverns. Wink had found him soon and lent his great strength to the prince's labors in the area closest to where they both remembered the troll's wife had been. They worked in silence, neither one speaking as they allowed physical labor to block the unthinkable from their minds. More Elves and fey arrived in response to the first signs of the attack and joined in to dig. By sunset, several fey had been rescued, broken and bleeding, from the shallowest rubble. A few surviving humans had been found too, but every one of them had been ruthlessly dispatched. Nuada's sword dripped fresh blood, while the troll's weapons had begun to dry to a tacky brown.

They worked alongside a mountain troll matron named Shard, the most revered of Earthflame's stoneworkers. Nuada cleared away small rubble while she ran her hands over the stone, sending her magic into the rock to feel where it was weakest before giving them permission to move a larger boulder away. Her dark gray skin was as rough as the stones around them, her bristles going white with age. One red-brown eye had been gouged out long ago, leaving only a jagged mountainous scar crossing her face from forehead to chintusk. The stonemaster halted her inspection of the rock at long last and shook her head. "_No more_," she muttered, her gravelly voice harsher with dust and grief. "_We cannot go further without more collapse._"

"_Then where do we dig next?_" Nuada asked, his chest heaving with exertion. The harder he worked, the less he thought about the dead. His hands and arms were filthy and gouged by pieces of shattered stone. Amber blood turned darker with dirt coated his skin. Wink's powerful arms and hands were similarly abused.

"_It's too unstable here now_," she replied. Her three-fingered hand touched the stone gently, as if she were touching the faces of those still trapped within. "_I'm sorry,_" she murmured to the ones inside.

A fiery denial began to well in his chest. "_Is there no hope?_" the prince asked, a distant song of rage keeping back any other emotion. Wink's face could have been true stone, so hard and grim were his features.

"_Another collapse will begin a cascade of them_," she told them. "_The cascade may stop quickly, or it may continue into the other passages_," she indicated the nearby caves where other fey were pulling away stones.

More deaths upon the heads of humans. His fierce scowl was only for those beasts as he, too, turned away from the dying. Nuada looked up to the other dig sites, trying to find one that could use another pair of hands. His gold eyes slitted in the light of the setting sun which framed several large silhouettes trudging from around the western face of the caverns. The troll scouts, whose knowledge of the rocky area was second to none, had returned. They paused at some of the caves to speak briefly with a troll working there. Sometimes that troll would shudder and turn back to his work, his efforts redoubling; sometimes the fey would rise and join the group, replaced at his labors by another troll.

By the time the scouting party reached Nuada, their number had swelled to almost twice that of the original dozen. "_Prince_," rumbled the leader, a gray-green behemoth named Targ, "_we tracked the humans back to their camp and they are returning to their stronghold with the children._" His tusked mouth was set in a grim curve. "_The infants did not long survive the abduction, and others are injured. We go now to take back our kin._"

Wink's hands flexed anxiously at his sides and he stole a torn glance at his prince. His son had been among those taken by the humans. Nuada's response was immediate. He nodded briefly, drawing himself fully upright and said simply, "_We will go with you._"

Trolls seem at first like great, lumbering beasts, but only to those that have never seen a troll upon its native ground. The thick, pebbled skin that rose in folds and creases along every hand and foot could grip the surface of natural stone as if glued to it. Solid, dense bones and hooves helped protect them from mishap, while knotted muscles and crushingly strong fingers moved stone, moved over stone or hammered through it as needed. In the alabaster halls of the Elven courts, a troll did indeed resemble a boulder tossed among floating leaves, yet on the rough, rocky terrain of the Earthflame territory, they could cross the mossy stones with a grace that even Nuada could not match.

They moved swiftly, silent hunters as the night approached. The moon was just beginning its ascent over the trees when they came to the river that flowed down to the human citadel some leagues away. The bastion, built from stone crudely chopped and stolen from the trolls' own land, rose against the sky, a darker shape against the deepening gloom. Tiny slits and squares of orange light blazed against it; humans were far too reliant upon light even when nature itself decreed that darkness should reign.

Targ growled deep in his chest, a sound echoed by the other trolls, carrying upon the wind that blew towards the citadel. As a pack, they moved, following the sinuous winding of the river. At the bottom of the citadel, just at the rocky edge of the river, the pack broke apart, indistinct grunts signalling to each troll where to go and what to do. And, most importantly, who to kill.

_Everyone_, Nuada thought darkly.

A handful went to the walls, fanning out along the base. Thick, stonehide hands grasped at crevices and protrusions, some too inconspicuous for Nuada's eyes to discern. With a disturbing agility that did not match their massive bodies, the trolls swarmed up the walls, trusting in their counterpart stone to aid them on their way. Another small group headed in war formation to the front of the citadel; every troll growling for blood and prepared to slaughter endlessly to distract the humans from the real assaults upon their sanctuary.

Nuada and Wink, and four others, went to the river itself. Humans carelessly dumped their waste and debris into nearby water, which is why most human settlements were situated so closely to rivers and lakes. In a large castle or stronghold, such as this one, human servants would take care of the refuse so that those of higher station need not offend their own noses with their own offal. The hapless human lackeys would dump the waste into a passage built under the citadel to let the river take it away. It was through this culvert that Nuada and the others stole into the fortress.

Once within the lower levels of the keep, where the stone was no longer the native riverbank but the blocks stolen from the trolls, Wink set his hands against the rock, bending his head to it as if to listen to a secret meant for him alone. He spread his fingers across the rough surface, calling to his brother stone. "_Where..._" the troll muttered, closing his eyes in concentration. "_Where are they?_"

Nuada and the others kept still. Wink was the only stonemaster among them, the only one that could coax the deepest secrets from the earth itself. He touched his forehead to the stone, then his eyes snapped open and he stood abruptly. "_The children are still alive_," he said with relief. "_Above us and to the north._"

They made their way up through the human passages, in some areas a challenge for the bulky trolls to navigate. Nuada led the way; with his smaller size and greater speed, he was the best defense against any accidental encounters with the humans. They could ill afford an alarm raised in the depths of the citadel, while the trolls attacked from the front and above. Twice, a human servant wandered afoul of the fey; twice a human died wordlessly upon a lance of silver.

They reached a passage that split in three directions. Wink touched the stone wall briefly, then pointed down one of the passages. "_The humans divided up the trollkin,_" he rumbled, "_small groups, held at the ends of each corridor_."

"_Where is Tell?_" Nuada asked.

"_That way_," Wink replied, nodding down the left hand path. The other four trolls separated into pairs and went down the other hallways; Nuada and Wink exchanged a glance, then the troll went first, his body rigid with a tangle of emotions. The Elf moved silently behind him, keeping a sharp eye at their rear.

* * *

Haakon chuckled, taking another long swig of mead and finishing the tankard. The wood vessel clattered as he tossed it carelessly aside, and the sound made the misshapen creatures jump. Two earthbeasts huddled together, the slightly larger gray one shielding the smaller brown with its own body. It glared at him, the hideous features set in defiance. Heavy iron collars dug into their necks, fastened with thick chains to the wall. The human scratched at a long, tangled beard the color of ale, then pulled out a flea and squashed it between his fingers. The torch he held in one hand threw little illumination into what had been one of the armories. He had helped to clear their precious weapons out of there, before locking the beasts inside; Jakob's fine citadel still lacked a proper dungeon. It was the Nordic lordling's idea to conscript the cave monsters into finishing the job.

As he put the torch through the bars of the door's narrow opening, Haakon wondered just how much work the small creatures could do. He waved the torch at the earthbeasts, grinning as the smaller one shivered and hid its face against the other one. The gray monster stared at him with ugly, yellow-green eyes.

Haakon's blue eyes widened in mocking fear. "Oh, it's looking at me... whatever will I do?" his jovial smile twisted into a sneer. "Think what you like, monster. 'Tis of no matter to me when you're in there and I'm out here."

The earthbeast growled. Its small hand crept behind one of the curious casks looted from the caverns. Many of the trophies the humans had taken from the creatures had already been distributed among the men; Haakon himself had a fine, curved tusk that made a heavy weight in his pocket. Nobody seemed to have any idea what Jakob had wanted with those casks, and had simply tossed them in with the slaves until Jakob decided what to do with them.

He flinched back from the door as a small rock bounced off it with a metallic clang. His eyes narrowed in anger, watching the little brute ready another stone. "Two can play that game," he muttered as he looked down at the floor. Haakon bent over and picked up a few pieces of rock, leftover from the construction of this citadel, and discarded the two that had no sharp edges. He stuck both arms back through the window, torch in one hand and the rocks in the other. He ducked his head as the second stone sailed through the bars and glowered at the monster. The angle wasn't the best, not like hurling his favorite axe to cut down a fleeing enemy, but he was nearly twenty years of age and trained in battle besides.

His first rock came nowhere near the earthbeasts, landing instead in some scattered straw that had spilled out of a damaged practice dummy. The gray one pointed at him and made a raspy, coughing sound. Haakon was sure it was laughing at him, and his expression blackened with anger. "Think that's funny, do you?" he snarled, throwing another stone. This one came closer, but the barred window was hindering his aim. He pulled that arm out, keeping the light within the cell to see his targets, and drew it back to really hurl the next stone.

His hand hit something solid behind him. Haakon turned to glance over his shoulder, thinking for a brief instant that one of the other soldiers was coming to join the fun. He saw an expanse of stony gray skin and looked up.

And up.

The biggest earthbeast he'd ever seen filled the corridor, and the look in its yellow-green eyes was decidedly unfriendly. The creature inside the armory squalled and the monster roared in response. A massive hand, bigger than Haakon's own head, filled his vision.

The torch inside fell from a hand gone suddenly slack.

* * *

"_Father!_"

"_Tell!_" Wink bellowed, lashing out with one hand to catch the human's face. He didn't stop there, but instead plowed the man's head right into the wall, leaving a thick, ruinous smear where the skull had met the stone and lost. The troll dropped the corpse to the ground, kicking it aside disdainfully as he leaned closer to peer through the window. His craggy features were transformed with joy at finding his son. Tell and Ard were inside, the other child was one Wink knew well; her mother had been killed in the earlier battle, but she still had a grandfather to care for her.

His son patted the female reassuringly. "_Father's here_," he told her. "_We're going home._"

Wink inspected the door, crafted of thick, human iron and nearly as wide as the passage itself. It was set solidly into the stone of his fathers. He ran his hand along the narrow band of rock that bordered the door, seeking for weaknesses in the stone where it did not meet well with the metal. Wink gave the door a black look when he found none. He hammered on the door with his fist experimentally, his expression hardening further at the dull thuds underlying the clamor. It was very solid. He turned to look back at Nuada, "_It will take me a long time to break apart the stones._"

"_The humans will not offer us that courtesy_," the prince replied in a low voice, despite the racket his friend had already made. He was alert to attack from behind, and to the sounds of the other trolls in case humans should come upon them in their missions. One white hand pointed at the dead human, "_Kick that back to me. He may have a key on him._"

The troll nodded and scraped the corpse back with his foot; there was not enough space for Nuada to move past him to get to the body himself. The prince searched the human with callous efficiency, finding the bloody tusk of one of the fallen in a pocket. His teeth clenched together and he tucked it into his belt; taking it back to the trolls seemed the only right thing to do.

His hair swung once as he shook his head angrily. "_He doesn't have one._"

"_I'll have to make some noise then,_" Wink growled, turning back to the door. He balled his right hand into a fist and punched the stone. The impact of his flesh against the rock cut through the quiet of the depths and he hit it again, harder. Pain bloomed along the troll's knuckles and he began to hit it faster.

Nuada kept a fierce watch behind them. His attention was on the passages to their rear, so it took a few moments before another sound registered to his Elven hearing: a barely perceptible hissing, with a soft crepitate underneath. He frowned as he kept his watch, trying to identify the noise behind him in the spaces between the heavy blows of the troll's fist. Faint shouts narrowed his eyes; humans were coming. The Elf drew his sword and set himself to defend his friend; ready and more than willing to kill humans for as long as Wink needed.

His gold eyes widened in sudden alarm as memory fitted an image to the sound and he turned back abruptly. "Wink!" the troll's name, wound about with dread, erupted from Nuada's throat. Wink paused and glanced back at Nuada just as a dozen human fighters spilled into the hallway, their appearance snatching the prince's attention back from the troll. The Elf met their crude attacks with whirling death, his focus diverted from the greater peril.

The hissing blossomed into a quiet _whumph _as the human's torch ignited the straw.

"_Father!_" screamed Tell. "_Fire!_"

The troll's head snapped back around, his eyes widening in fear as he saw the flames licking along the straw, gobbling its way towards his son. His muscles rippled under the lithic hide and he roared, swinging his fist at the iron door with a power born of desperation. He hammered at it, heedless of the snapping sounds of his own bones cracking, ignoring the blue blood that slicked the door from the split skin over his knuckles. Nothing mattered but that his fist was battering an indentation into the door, shaking it harder and harder in the stone surrounding it.

The iron began to creak, then screech like a dying rabbit. The troll gathered himself again and hit the indentation with every last bit of strength he possessed, precisely where a split was beginning to open in the door. The metal sheared and spread before the troll's onslaught.

The two trollkin had twisted around to kick the straw away from them and the casks next to them. The sight of the sparkpowder within choked Wink with panic. He gave another primal scream of fury and hit the door once more, his wrecked fist bursting through the metal. The iron peeled away, letting his right arm sink farther into the hole, past the iron to feel the same air his son shared. He clawed at the inside of the door, seeking a latch or handle or any sort of purchase that would let him tear it apart. He tried to draw his arm back out, but the shards of iron pierced into his arm and trapped it there, sinking more deeply into his flesh as he pulled.

"_It's burning!_" Ard shrieked in terror. "_The sparkpowder-_"

Light and concussion crashed together, eliminating vision and sound in a moment of obliteration. A smoky blaze blasted from the window of the cell, scorching Wink's face and eyes. The citadel trembled with the explosion as the spout of fire shattered the humans' concentration.

Nuada took full advantage of their surprise, slashing one human from hip to shoulder and turning with that strike to spin about, bringing the sword up into a lunge at another human. The first one's head fell from his shoulders as Nuada's blade sliced through the neck, drops of crimson trailing from the tip of his sword as he carried his momentum into the next enemy, hacking that one down with more brutal speed. He snatched up the human's axe from its dying hand and launched it between two other humans to bury itself with a wet crack into the forehead of another.

Of the two opponents left, he thrust his sword into the belly of one, twisting the blade viciously and wresting it sideways. He kicked the other one high in the jaw, slamming the human's head against the wall with that foot and holding it there while he finished gutting the other one. A short stab through the last one's chest, a temporary filling for the void with which humans were born, pierced the empty heart and ended its hunger.

Only when the humans were dead did he dare to turn his back on them to see what had happened. The iron door had buckled within the stone arch, sooty tendrils of smoke issuing from the edges. Wink was on his knees before it, his left hand curled into a fist against the metal as a low, gravelly moan dragged itself out of his throat. His right arm was stuck in the door, nearly to the elbow, and Nuada could see blackened flesh edging the hole in the door. The prince was at the troll's side in an instant, "_Wink..._" he said, fighting off his own horror to tend the other fey.

"_...Tell..._" Wink whispered, turning his face towards Nuada's voice, the seared flesh dragging against the door. The amber-green eyes were burned, their surfaces a clouded, sickly blue from the fire. His powerful shoulders began to shake uncontrollably. "_...my son._"

Though Nuada knew better than to hope, he straightened and looked into the cell. Grief carved lines into his face as he looked upon two charred, still forms. He dropped back down to one knee beside Wink, reaching out to touch the trapped arm. He tried to gently pull it free, but the limb seemed fused to the metal. "_Can you withdraw it?_" he asked. Wink seemed not to hear him, and he tried again to pull his friend's arm out.

"_...can't..._" the troll muttered, shock of the body and soul fading his voice to a bleak mumble. "_Can't... feel... ah Tell..._" his words broke apart on dry sobs and a fresh wail of despair swallowed the rest. Nuada bowed his head, one hand on Wink's shoulder as an answering keen of sorrow tried to claw its way out of his own chest, searching for any words that might help.

What could he possibly say to soften the worst blow his friend had ever taken?

Wink made no move to get up, or to free himself. He rested his broad forehead against the door, his face contorted in pain that Nuada couldn't imagine. The prince swallowed hard, shoving emotion back down. They were still in enemy territory. He clamped his white hands around Wink's arm and braced his foot against the door, his muscles standing out sharply as he pulled as hard as he could. The arm slid out perhaps a thumblength, then stopped, and no amount of Elven strength could win more of it from its iron prison. The skin and flesh was as charred as the two trollkin within.

"_Wink_," Nuada said, hating himself for the edge of cold command that he used to slice through the troll's heartache. "_We must leave, there is nothing more we can do._"

A heavy shudder went through the troll's body. The fist against the door went limp, flattening his palm against the metal. Wink made a dull effort to free his arm, but gave up quickly. "_I cannot,_" he said hollowly. "_Leave me._"

"_I will leave no fey here_," Nuada snapped, letting his anger keep his sorrow at bay. He looked at the arm once again, and his eyes narrowed as the only course of action presented itself to him. He drew his sword, his hand trembling as he gripped it tightly, and he blocked the thought of what he was about to do. The silver blade carried the weight of mountains in his hand as he rested the edge against Wink's arm, just below the line of destroyed flesh. Once he had decided upon the angle of his strike, his mouth set in grim determination and the shining curve rose into the air.

"_Forgive me, my brother_," Nuada said as it flashed back down.

* * *

Orchid made a small sound in her sleep and snuggled into the crook of Wink's mechanical arm. She yawned and tucked her face under the angle of the troll's jaw, muttering something indistinct as she fell back into slumber. He patted her gently with his good hand, and she snuggled into his arm again, her thin body relaxing fully once more. Wink turned his attention back to the prince.

"It's as good a place as any," the troll rumbled softly, eyeing the angular shape against the night. Sharing an architectural style like some of New York's oldest hotels, this building seemed to have fared far worse than its peers. At some point in its history, humans had changed their minds about luxury accomodations and historical significance, and torn down much of the interior to "create" something new. Used for storage, perhaps, or simply left derelict for many years had made it a target of human creativity again, when human gatherings called "raves" became popular. The two fey had seen this phenomenon in San Francisco, where a warehouse would be decked out in artificial brilliance for a short time, and just as quickly abandoned within the span of a moon phase.

Since its purpose as a rave, the building had fallen even more into disrepair. The gaudy acrylic letters attached to the front eaves were unlit, their casings cracked. Nuada squinted at the word, trying to decipher what it had been, a missing letter making a gap near the center. "Midnigh... runner..." he mused. He shook his head with disdain. "Should we search for a different lair?" he asked.

The troll shook his head. "I can't feel the stone very well," he said, "but we have been underground for too many days. We will not be here long, and glamour will serve to keep us hidden for a short time."

Nuada nodded, feeling a touch of relief at the prospect of once again having space in which to move freely. He strode over to the dilapidated wire fence that did a poor job of enclosing the lot of the former dance club. The bindings holding the mesh to one of the posts had corroded away, letting the mesh sag. He gripped the wire and yanked it back, easily breaking the remaining clasps. Nuada held it open and motioned for Wink to go in.

The troll crouched down to fit himself through the opening, taking care not to wake the girl. Nuada waited until Wink was inside, then swept his firegold eyes back over the street and alleys around them. It was nearing false dawn, and humans were at their least active. No curious eyes peered from the night, and Nuada turned away from the street, ducking under the edge of the mesh. Wink would have to reinforce this fence, and they would all have to perform other small repairs to make it habitable for the time being, but until the auction at Blackwood's, or their acquisition of the crown piece, "Midnighrunner" was their new home.


	10. Chapter 9

_AN: This chapter introduces gangs into the story, which is only for plot purposes and is not in any way meant to glorify or sanction gang activity._

* * *

Adrian bent over suddenly, one hand bracing himself against the brick wall as he threw up. He'd never killed anyone before.

Behind him, Del was dragging the body farther back into the alley behind the old rave. Garbage rustled as the older boy kicked cardboard and other trash over the corpse. "Good shot!" his friend said, coming back to clap a hand on his shoulder. His grin was too white in his face. "Sweet piece of work, kid. You're in for sure now."

The other boy looked up at him, his eyes watery from vomiting. "What?" he asked, certain that losing his lunch had lost him his chance of joining the gang. Bad enough that he was Chinese and couldn't get into the Chinese gangs because of his mixed blood; now he'd blown his opportunity to belong somewhere else.

Del drew himself up proudly, a string of light blue, gray and white rosary beads wound around one wrist. He had taken a knife to his own bicep long ago, the scars now stretched and shiny, forming a six-pointed star that was paler against the dark hue of his skin. "I told you, cuzz, do the deed in front of a LOC, and you get in. You already know our history and codes; this was the last step."

The other teen nodded, spitting the last of the bile from his mouth. He straightened up, shaking a little from the retching. A .357 Magnum was still in his other hand and Del took it from him quickly, making it vanish into his jacket before anyone looked their way. It was almost midnight, but it never hurt to be careful. "I just... I'm not..." Adrian swallowed hard and looked back at the alley. "What did that guy do, anyway?"

Del shrugged. "Who cares? Blood colors on our turf ain't somethin' to tolerate, or they're all gonna feel like they can move in." He hooked his arm around Adrian's neck and yanked his head down for a noogie. "Let's get back to the Ironman... he's gonna want to hear about this right now!"

* * *

"Omigod, this place is so _cool_!"

Nuada sighed. There were times when she was quiet and helpful, very nearly tolerable. And then there were times like this, when she rushed about in childish excitement. The girl couldn't seem to stay in one spot for any real length of time; bouncing from one damaged section of the building to another. Splintered wood planks leaning against a decrepit bar clattered as she pushed them aside to squeeze under them. The bar had been backed by a high mirror that had run the entire length of it; most of the glass was gone, but several shards remained in the dusty metal frame. The sound of glass scratching across the floor behind the bar jarred the air and Orchid squealed again, "There's peanuts back here!"

He and Wink surveyed the interior. Gaudy blue and black spraypaint formed strange symbols on some areas of the walls. The original flooring had been ripped away and a scuffed black surface had been laid down over a large, squared area that was situated lower than the rest of the floor. Nuada walked along the edge of the dance pit, avoiding the occasional broken table or chair that littered his path, looking around at the remains of the inside. Midnighrunner had been a hotel once, he could see the shells of rooms in the upper story, but most of the ceilings and walls had been removed, looking oddly scooped away, and the electrical wiring of those rooms had been appropriated for large, garish lights that hung over the center of the former lobby.

The floor creaked under Wink's feet as the troll circled around the other way, edging past the area where bands had been set up and blasted their music as loudly as possible. The stage was empty now, with only some broken equipment left behind when the rave had closed for good. The air smelled musty and stale, and held the odors of many generations of stray animals. A scrawny black-and-white cat approached to curvette itself around Nuada's feet. He knelt down to rub its head, his eyes noting the shy forms of kittens behind the stage.

The girl hoisted herself up onto the bar, a handful of shiny plastic packages in one hand. "Who wants honey-roasted?"

Nuada glared at her and she quelled herself, stuffing the bags of peanuts into her pocket. He looked across at the troll, "Mr. Wink?"

"It's not bad," his friend shrugged. "The floor is relatively solid, and the supports above seem to have fared well. We shouldn't have to worry about anything coming down upon us, but I will go up to make sure."

"Very well," the Elf replied. If the upper floor wouldn't collapse under Wink's weight, then it would be safe for Nuada and certainly for the scrap of a girl they'd brought with them. Long years of remaining in the sewers of San Francisco, while oppressive, had left the prince with a faintly uneasy feeling in such an open area. He preferred the space, but it was still a great deal to watch for possible attack.

Cloth scraped against the bar as Orchid hopped down and continued to explore. She trotted down a hallway, the sound soon followed by a screech of old hinges. The cat startled and fled to the stage and he cast an irritated glance where the human had gone. "Found the bathroom!" she called. "I think the water's still on for this place."

An unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome detail. The prince stood and scanned the large dance area again. Making camp here would be an adjustment, but one that he could handle. A set of stairs opposite the bathroom's hallway led up and his firegold eyes went up the wall to see a darkened window overlooking the rave. Curiosity sent him over there, and he went up the narrow staircase until it stopped at a locked door. A solid kick right next to the knob splintered the frame and Nuada pushed the door open. Inside was a dusty desk, papers and files scattered in boxes or strewn on the floor. A steel five-drawer filing cabinet stood forlorn in one corner, its drawers open and empty. The window took up most of the wall and he peered out to see that the view of the floor was excellent.

"Orchid," Wink called and the girl came running. "Let's see what's upstairs."

She reached up to him and he bent down to pick her up, lifting her onto his shoulder. "Peanuts?" she asked and he nodded. The girl tore open one of the packs and poured it into his good hand; he tossed the entire handful in his mouth and crunched. "There was another set of stairs back that way," she said, pointing back down the hallway. "I think they go all the way up."

"Stay behind me up there," he rumbled. "I'm going to see how solid the floors above are."

The girl gave him a worried look. "What if you fall?"

"Trolls bounce," he said, poking her stomach with one finger. She giggled and hugged him around the neck as they went back down the short hallway that led to the entrance and the stairs she'd mentioned.

Nuada set his foot against the edge of the desk and shoved it back, opening up more space in the room. He set his pack on it, realizing that with so much room, it was entirely feasible for him to have his own space away from the human. Privacy was once again an option. His dark mouth curved a little as a small smile crept into place. Leaving his things on the desk, he went back downstairs.

Behind the bar was a kitchen area which had been stripped of most if its appliances and much of the tile. The oven door was missing, and electrical wiring hung from the walls like shriveled vines. Cabinets hung open, their doors gone or clinging to safety by a single hinge. A few cans were left in the storage, their sides belled out as if inflated from within. More painted glyphs were in here too and Nuada wondered what they might mean. He and Wink had seen similar graffiti in shadowed areas of San Francisco, but the symbols there were nothing like these, though equally meaningless. He shook his head disdainfully; human "art" simply wasn't.

An ominous creaking from the dance area drew his attention and he left the kitchen, brushing dust from the sleeves of his favorite sable tunic. Up above, Wink was carefully stepping across the remains of the second tier, checking his footing every time before settling his weight down to a fresh complaint from the floor. Orchid was in one of the half-rooms, tossing pillows and other abandoned stained bedding down to the main floor. She finished scavenging in one room and went to the next, following the path that Wink had already established as safe.

"What do you see up there?" Nuada called up to his friend. He made a minute adjustment to the crimson sash around his waist. The gold emblem of his clan glimmered against the stark colors.

The troll shook his head, his attention at his feet. "Nothing of much use, aside from old bedding. I worry that I may not be able to craft or make repairs while we're here."

"There's another room behind this one that may serve," the prince replied. "It could certainly use your singular ability to transform something out of nothing."

"Thank you," Wink replied as his hoof slid forward another handspan. "So long as we can maintain-"

A sharp crack sounded through the creaking and Wink froze. He slowly slid his hoof back, and another louder crack echoed in the stillness. With a sudden shifting and groan, the section he was standing on gave way and he plummeted to the main floor, his heavy form splintering the side of the band area.

"_Wink!_" screamed Orchid, flinging out a hand as if to catch him, even so far away.

Nuada crossed the space in a breath and went to one knee by the troll. "Wink?" he said anxiously. He'd seen his friend take hits that would fell the mightiest beast and shrug them off, but mishap was always a chancy thing.

The larger fey brushed debris off his face with his good hand, rough laughter rumbling in his chest. "Well, it _looked _solid."

The prince grinned, relieved that Wink was just fine. "Apparently not," he said dryly. "Are you well?"

"Quite," he replied, his great gray head nodding once. He set both elbows against the stage and pushed himself up into a sitting position. "No reason to go up there anyway, it's all been picked over already."

His white hair swayed as the prince nodded, "I agree, no need for that." He turned his face up to see Orchid above, still wide-eyed with concern. He beckoned her with one elegant hand so she could see for herself that Wink was all right, "Come down."

She nodded and vanished back into the far side of the upper floor.

Nuada looked back at Wink, chuckling as the troll pried himself out of the broken wood of the stage. "_I_ wouldn't have fallen," he teased.

The troll gave him a cynical look. "Sounds like someone wants some mild practice," he grumbled, pushing himself up with his hands. A nearly inaudible creak sounded again under Wink, and Nuada's grin vanished as he threw himself away from that spot in a backwards roll. Elven ears could hear the sound,elven reflexes could avoid the danger. Wink had neither as the rave's floor, built from materials provided by the lowest bidder, cracked and broke away in a ramp, sending the large fey sliding down into the basement with a crash.

Nuada crouched at the edge, peering down into the darkness. A flood of Trollish profanity aimed at human craftsmanship floated up from below and the prince choked down a laugh.

* * *

Adrian woke up, his mouth dry and a faceful of sunlight stabbing into his head. He groaned and rolled over, covering his eyes with one hand. The rickety iron bed squeaked under him, reminding him that he wasn't at home and he sighed. His grandmother wasn't going to be happy that he'd stayed out all night again. A thin white sheet tangled around his legs and he kicked it off and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Initiations were always a big deal, and when Ironman had made Adrian's status official, the whole gang had brought out beers and joints to celebrate.

The room seemed to rock around him as he tried to stand and the fifteen-year old sat back down, dropping his head into his hands. Fragmented pieces of the night before came and went and his bile rose again. Yeah, he'd lost his virginity last night, though he wasn't sure with which girl, but he'd killed a guy too. Someone he'd never spoken to, never met, never heard of. Just bang, and the guy was gone. It made Adrian wonder if that might happen to him someday.

The faint scent of bacon drifted up from the kitchen below and his nausea washed away in sudden hunger. He rubbed his head, trying to soothe his headache, then ran a hand through his short black hair to push it into place. This was Ironman's house; he and his brother Del lived alone since their mother had left long ago and their father had been murdered by Bloods. Fortunately, Ironman was over eighteen; since he was the brains and called the shots, the gang usually met there without worrying about misguided social workers checking on the two boys.

He stood up unsteadily and headed for the door. It shocked him how hungry he was; grass really did do a number on his appetite. Downstairs, the scent of bacon grew stronger and was joined by frying eggs and toast. Adrian's stomach growled loudly as he went into the kitchen.

"Mornin', baby G," Ironman said cheerfully. He was standing barefoot in front of the stove, wearing only a pair of frayed and faded jeans. Adrian felt underdeveloped at the sight of Ironman's broad shoulders and defined muscles. A string of blue and purple beads crossed the other man's throat, indicating his affiliation and status as an assassin. Three gold rings glittered along the edge of his ear; the edge of the other one was crinkled and deformed from being bitten off long ago. "Shelly didn't break you last night, did she?"

"Uh, no," Adrian said, blushing a little. At least he knew which girl to be extra nice to now. "What time is it?"

The black man looked at his watch, the band turned so that the face was against the inside of his wrist. A six-pointed star was tattooed on the web of flesh between his thumb and forefinger. "Be about half after ten," he replied.

"Shit," Adrian groaned. "I'm totally late for school."

Ironman shrugged, scooping eggs onto a plate with bacon and handing it to Adrian. "No worries, cuzz," he said. "Take the day off and I'll write ya a note."

That was almost funny. "What's it gonna say?" Adrian asked. "Please excuse Adrian, he was busy getting high and screwing his brains out last night?"

"Might be," the other gang member laughed. "You're family now, cousin. Ain't nothin' we won't do for you."

Adrian picked up a piece of bacon and took a bite, wondering how his grandmother, who'd emigrated from Nanking, would react to a black man calling her grandson "cousin." The bacon slice vanished and he gobbled another just as quickly. "Where's Del?" he asked, his mouth full.

"Went shopping," came the answer, "with Jerko and deMarius. Damn, those dogs know how to clean out a fridge." Ironman winked at Adrian as he finished cooking his own food and turned off the burners. He went to the kitchen table and turned a chair around to sit in it backwards, setting the plate on the table and starting in on the eggs.

The eggs were really good; Adrian wolfed them down. "You write notes for Del too?"

"Nah, bro got his GED two months ago. You might wanna think about doing the same, so you ain't got conflicting loyalties."

Something about those last two words made Adrian shiver. "What do you mean? We're not at war with the schools, are we?"

Ironman shook his head, his handsome face turning serious. "But the Bloods and Latin Kings got their own kids in school. You're full in now, and soon as they notice your tags and colors, they might come after you. We can't protect you in there as good as we can out here."

"So, what... I just drop out now?"

The gang leader gave him a hard look and pointed the fork at him. "Hell, no. Del says you're smarter than he is, so you're gonna get that GED and then go onto college. Ain't nobody wants to stay in this life unless they too stupid to make another."

* * *

Except for the hole in stage, the ground floor was quite stable. After some searching, Nuada and Orchid found the door to the basement and let Wink back out. For the rest of the day, he and the prince discussed fortifications, while Orchid was sent to clean up the mess of papers in the upstairs office. When she was done with that, Nuada sent her into the kitchen with Wink to help the troll set up the space he needed to work. They still had a good supply of hot rocks from their last trip to the San Francisco troll market, and Wink made a small pile in the cavern of the oven to start a fire. The counters weren't solid enough to hold up to heavy battering, so Wink was going to have to do the best he could with repairs and crafting. Fortunately, he'd already made a new gauntlet for Orchid to replace her old one; the girl was growing up quickly and the old one had been wearing sores into her wrist and hand.

Wink did the heavy lifting, moving a shell of a massive refrigerator aside to clear floor space. He tilted it to one side until gravity caught the steel box and dragged it down with a crash. He shoved it all the way against the wall, then tore away the island in the center of the kitchen and discarded it as well. The troll took out his stoneworking tools to finish clearing away broken tile and to smooth the jagged base of the island left in the center.

Orchid brought in the tattered pillows and mildewed bedding from the dance area and began to make a nest in one of the corners large enough for the troll to sleep comfortably. When he finally waved her away from that, she climbed up to kneel on the countertops while she went through the cabinets. Every can got a sour look and was discarded with the rest of the debris. The most precarious of the cabinet doors were tugged off and thrown away also. Another blanket was scrubbed along the floor with her feet, pushing aside dust and small bits of debris in lieu of a broom.

Nuada, meanwhile, left to scout the area once the sun had set. First, he prowled the immediate streets and alleys surrounding their new abode, drawing ancient glyphs in strategic places with his fingertips as he whispered words that no creature at home in this world had ever heard. A subtle quivering of the air settled around Midnighrunner; it would still be plainly visible to him and Wink, but human eyes would merely slide over it. Making an entire building invisible was too obvious and would actually work against them by attracting attention; making it simply unnoticeable was a more ideal way to avoid detection. Once the wards were set, he turned his attention to reconnaissance.

Midway through his patrol, he caught the scent of blood. Human blood. A frown crossed his face as his nerves sang to alertness. Nuada followed the stench, every muscle tense to attack, and he swallowed his disgust as the stink grew stronger. In the narrow space between Midnighrunner and the building behind it, he found the source. Buried under some carelessly strewn trash was the corpse of a human dressed in black sweat pants and a bright red satin jacket with the word "Chicago" across the back of it. A red bandana was knotted around his neck and plastic beads in red, black and green were tied around the wrist. The Elf turned the rigid corpse over with his foot.

Relatively young, for a human. Older than Orchid, he was certain, but not much more so. A small hole, encrusted with dried blood, was centered over where the heart was located, just next to an embroidered image of a bull on the front of the coat. The human's face was ashen under the bronzed skin, his eyes open with the brown irises clouded. A thin trickle of blood had dried from the corner of his mouth to the middle of his cheek where it had rested against the ground. A fly buzzed close to the face and landed on the edge of one nostril.

The human had died within the last two days, possibly as recently as their own arrival.

His mouth thinned in a scowl, not liking the conclusion at all.


	11. Chapter 10

_AN: I like to use minor characters, but they're all disposables from the Fanfiction Temp Agency. Not a single one is anything more than window dressing._

* * *

"Well, shit," said Detective Luna as he looked down at the corpse. White light flashed as the forensic photographer snapped another film. Black and yellow crime scene tape was banded across either end of the alley. Luna shook out a cigarette from a red and white hardbox, setting it between his teeth and fishing in his pocket for a book of matches he'd gotten from a strip club a week ago. An attractive criminologist collecting bloodied trash with forceps gave him a hard look and he winked at her, putting the book of matches back in his pocket without lighting his Marlboro. "You'd think that with Crip tags on every building in a six-block radius," he mused, forming the words clumsily around the cigarette, "this wandering genius might've figured out this wasn't the best place for him to be."

"You'd think," said Hatcher, turning back to the trash. "But has your unit ever credited any gang member with an abundance of brains?"

"Not the dead ones," Luna muttered. His brown eyes tracked the dried line of blood along one cheek. The stiffness of the limbs was beginning to soften again, placing death as sometime in the last three days or so, but Luna could tell that the original orientation of the corpse when rigor mortis had set in had been face down. "I want to know who moved him. A bum? Someone looking for spare change? Japanese tourists wanting a picture? Who?"

"You can try raising him from the dead and asking," Hatcher suggested with that smirk that only ex-girlfriends seem to use.

"That's your job, Sergeant," he replied. "You find the pieces, I put them together. It's a lovely synergy that cable TV never seems to get right."

"Well," Hatcher said, standing up and dusting off her knees. Unlike the detective, who was wearing an off-the-rack gray suit, she was free to wear form-fitting jeans and a black t-shirt that clung to her like a second skin. The letters CSI were emblazoned across the back, just barely visible under her auburn hair. It wasn't fair that she was still the most attractive woman he had access to. "I can build a computer simulation of the crime scenes," she said with more than a hint of pride at designing that little beauty. "It'll give you an approximate build and height for whoever dragged him in here, but that won't mean that's the killer."

"Thank you, Darth Obvious," Luna said sarcastically. "Remind me again why you washed out of the detective exam?"

"I didn't want to share a desk with you," she said sweetly.

Luna ignored the choked-off snicker of the photographer. His attention was drawn by movement at the end of the alley, where a girl was peering curiously at the assembled police. He waved a hand dismissively at her, "Go home, kid. Nothing to see here."

The girl stared back at him curiously, her head cocked slightly to one side. Some kind of Caucasian mix, the observer in him noted absently, with limp brown hair and hazel eyes. A well-worn but empty messenger's bag was slung across her chest. No gang colors or other tags were showing, though there was a suspicious bulge under her ragged denim jacket near her right hip. He wondered if it was a gun. She ignored his instructions and glanced upwards, away from him.

"Hey!" he snapped. Those eyes shifted back to him with no real defiance, but neither did they hold acknowledgment of his authority. Luna scowled and took a step towards her and she retreated. "I said beat it, kid, unless you wanna stick around and answer a lot of questions."

That seemed to scare her away, as she turned and ran. "Way to go, Martin," Hatcher said dryly. "Next time why don't you draw your gun?"

"Don't think it wasn't an option," he replied.

"Remind me again why you washed out of prospective father tryouts?" she asked, returning his earlier sarcasm in spades.

* * *

Nuada crouched at the top of Midnighrunner, the midday sun turning his pale hair nearly as silver as his lance. He watched the police with interest, listening to the bits of conversation that scattered below. Of the people milling around the corpse, only three seemed to be focused on the body. The rest appeared to be discussing an upcoming sports event, the former relationship between the detective and one of the females, and what they were going to order for lunch.

It never failed to amaze him how humans could use science to plod and blunder towards the same conclusion that a hunter's observation, with perhaps a little magic, could afford them within moments. He knew not the exact circumstances of the human's death, but it stank to him of some sort of blooding ritual, which had piqued his curiosity. He'd been even more interested in seeing how these human guards reacted to the blooding. Movement at the edge of his vision drew his attention down to Orchid, who was lurking at the mouth of the alley watching the police with as much, if not more, curiosity than he.

She glanced up at Nuada, almost as if she'd heard him speak to her, and he shook his head briefly and gave her a warning look. Neither he nor Wink needed the inconvenience of her getting entangled in police matters.

The lead detective spoke harshly to her, but she was already leaving. The Elf smirked with some amusement; let the human think what he will. Nuada knew whose command she'd obeyed. Perhaps it was petty of him, but it still gave him an odd, yet distinct sense of satisfaction. He continued to observe the police until the corpse was sealed in a large white bag and taken away, and the detective was finished with the area.

Only when the police, who had never once looked above them, had begun to pack their esoteric toys and gradually leave did Nuada turn away. His eyes slitted against the glare of the sun as he looked out across the city. He needed to locate this Blackwood's auction house and time was not going to be kind to him.

Employing a similar "don't look at me" glamour on himself as that which he'd used on their new home, Nuada ran lightly across the roof of the building and squirreled down the side, his fingers and toes easily finding purchase in the crumbling brick.

On the other side of Midnighrunner, he dropped down to the ground and slipped through the gap in the fence that he'd made when they had first arrived. Less than twenty paces away, there was a dark blue postal box near the corner, with Orchid crouched beside it. A small pink box was on the ground between her feet. She glanced up at him as he approached, a bit of gooey white frosting at the corner of her mouth. She gave him a bright grin and offered the box, "Doughnut?"

The inside was stained with grease and different colors of frosting. There were perhaps four left and he shook his head. Wink would probably like them. "Where did you get those?" he asked, idly curious.

If anything, that grin only got broader. "One of the cops left his car window open. What's going on back there?"

As if cued by her words, a black and white car drove slowly out from behind their lair, and she quickly slid the pink carton of treats under the blue postal box. Orchid stood casually and moved a few steps away from the postal box as the police cruiser drove by, the two officers inside glancing their way briefly. Orchid smiled and waved cheerfully at them, getting nods and a single friendly wave in return before their attention went back to the rest of the neighborhood.

She looked back up at him to see flame-colored eyes boring into hers. "Why did you gain their attention?" he said in a low tone. It danced on the edge of anger, not quite there, but close.

"If I looked like I had something to hide, they'd have been a lot more interested," she replied, a faintly worried expression crossing her face. "That's how I got them to ignore me in San Francisco. I didn't think it would be a problem here."

It didn't really make sense to him, but if experience bore out the success of such a tactic... He sighed and shook his head, dismissing the matter, "Very well, but have a care for whose attention you draw." Nuada watched the police car turn another corner, vanishing from sight.

As soon as it was gone, she retrieved the pink box and tucked it into her satchel. Orchid nodded. "Yes, sir," she said meekly. "What's the plan now?"

"The "plan"," he replied, "is for you to..." his words trailed off as he eyed her speculatively. Another thought occurred to him. A young adolescent companion might prove to be a useful camoflauge, or distraction. He pondered several different strategies to use.

After several moments, she began to fidget under his silent regard. "Your Highness?"

"I think you need another set of lessons," he said absently.

She frowned in confusion. "Right now? What kind?"

"No, not now, but soon," he said. His dark lips quirked wryly. "I believe they will be your most challenging yet. Be on your way; I will return later tonight. Stay out of trouble," he added as he turned from her and strode away.

It took Nuada only a day to locate Blackwood's, and another three to be thoroughly aggravated by the security. By night, the auction house was closed. Human guards and their dogs patrolling inside and out were not even a challenge, but video cameras were quite another matter. He'd learned the hard way that human technology was not always fooled by glamour, not like the humans watching their precious monitors. If the cameras were recording the area, a simple reconnaissance could quickly sour. Nuada could not afford to make any mistakes, not this close to his goal.

By day, however, the auction house was open for customers to browse the viewing rooms prior to the actual auction at the end of the week. One human female went inside with a large group of children, quite obviously not hers. The unusual arrangement had drawn his attention, and he'd learned that Blackwood's occasionally permitted groups of students to tour the building as part of something called a "field trip." He almost regretted not bringing the girl along; she might have been able to slip in amongst the other children.

The auction house was a four-story, narrow stone building surrounded by an iron fence topped with spikes. There were large windows on every floor, particularly on the topmost one, and the wall looked rough enough to easily scale. He waited until sunset, then did so, choosing the rear corner of the building after carefully watching for the telltale red lights and shapes of cameras. Those he avoided with the utmost heed; even accidental damage might cause the humans to change their behavior patterns.

Once on the roof, he saw more small red lights along the inside of the hip-high wall enclosing the roof. They were set nearly as low as the roof itself and didn't look like cameras, and he wondered what they might represent.

As he slid off the edge of the parapet and his booted feet landed on the roof, a piercing siren echoed from below. Growling curses to himself, he retreated immediately, clinging to the outside of the wall just below the edge of the parapet. He watched the roof, and as the roof access door opened to admit two guards, the prince's face vanished behind the wall.

"See anything, Roger?" he heard one of them say. Nuada closed his eyes and concentrated, strengthening his personal glamour from misdirection to full invisibility. The amount of power that the stronger glamour required bled from him, but he could maintain it for a short time.

"Nah," the other replied. "I think it was a cat again."

"Can't be," said the first. "The pressure sensors were recalibrated last week. It takes at least fifty pounds to set them off."

"A really fat cat?" Roger said sarcastically.

"Funny," the first snorted. "Let's just check it anyway. Gotta earn that eight-fifty an hour."

Nuada listened to the humans walk around the roof, gauging how long it had taken for the alarm - immediate - to activate and the guards - somewhat slower - to respond. He carefully raised his head to peer over the edge of the parapet. The humans were walking in opposing circuits around the roof, one was approaching his position slowly. The roof access door was still open as they looked around the roof and he smiled to himself. Very careless, but humans deserved what they paid for.

Roger and his partner searched the roof with the six-cell MagLites they carried that also doubled as clubs should the need, or rather opportunity, arise. Although their eyes and the beams of light swept over Nuada several times, not once did the prince's glamour fail to conceal him from view. After too brief a search, they went back through the door, abandoning the roof as empty. Nuada's mouth turned in another scornful smirk as he scaled down the back of the auction house.

The human fortress, like all of them, had its cracks and he'd just found the easiest one to exploit. Another alarm tonight would make the guard too suspicious, but in a few days, perhaps, he could come back and lure them to the roof once more.

* * *

Del scowled at Adrian as Shelly played with Adrian's hair. It made Adrian nervous and he tried to disengage from her. It wasn't easy; the cafe-au-lait beauty was sticking to him as if they were glued together, and Adrian finally got up from the couch. "Hey, Del, I'm gonna go head out for a while. You or Ironman want anything?"

"Just some smokes," Ironman said while he practiced some katas that Adrian didn't recognize. He didn't seem to notice the hostility his younger brother was directing at the other boy.

"I'll go with you," Shelly said, sliding one hand up his leg. He grabbed it as Del's stare turned blacker, feeling even more guilty for his initiation than ever before. He hadn't known Del was sweet on Shelly. She had told Adrian that the two of them had broken up, but it didn't look like Del had gotten that message.

"No!" he cried, too quickly. "I mean, it's cool, ya know. I just want to go for a walk and get some air."

"Sounds good," Del said menacingly. He pushed himself up from the recliner. "I'll go with ya. It would really suck if some Blood took your head off."

Adrian tried not to gulp and failed. He rubbed the healing tattoo on his hand nervously, the blue ink stark against his skin. A six-pointed star, with S.C.C. arrayed along the top points and V12 along the bottom points. It wasn't exactly as bold as a scarified star on his bicep, but it closely resembled Ironman's tattoo, and Adrian felt confident that it was enough. "Cuzz, I don't think there's going to be any trouble-"

"Bullshit," Ironman said, still moving his body like a lethal dancer. "You killed a Blood in Crip territory. Ain't no way they're not gonna come for revenge. Nobody goes out alone."

"I didn't... I mean..." Adrian stammered. Originally only Del had been wearing gray beads, that color meaning that the Crips were at war. Now, everyone in their set was wearing them. Nobody said it, but everyone felt it; something was going to go down soon. The Bloods were edging in on their turf, which meant more hostile clashes every day. deMarius had gotten his ass kicked by a pair of rivals that were twice his size, and only Del and Jerko's quick intervention had saved him from more than a smashed nose and broken ribs. Even their girls were getting harrassed; Shelly's older sister had been raped two days earlier.

Ironman paused in his katas, looking up at Adrian with a grin. "Don't get me wrong, cuzz. You did a good thing out there. I'm just saying that every good thing is gonna have its repercussions. Del's going with you and that's it."

Del moved past Adrian, slapping a hand on his back in what could be a comradely fashion, except Adrian nearly fell forward. "Let's get going, cuzz," he said, an angry edge to the last word. "We gotta discuss shit anyway."

The last thing Adrian saw as Del dragged him out of the house was a self-satisfied smile on Shelly's face.

Once outside and down the three steps leading up to the front door, Del turned towards Adrian, "About Shelly..." he said, and then drove a fist into the other boy's gut. He had more than a year of growth and nearly forty pounds of muscle on Adrian. The smaller boy gagged and staggered, and Del punched him again in the face. He kept Adrian up with a grip on his hair and hit him again, opening a bloody split on his lower lip. Adrian dropped, trying to shield his face and body with his arms. Del glared down at him and kicked him viciously in the kidneys.

"Hope you got all that, cuzz," Del said. "I don't wanna have to repeat myself."

Adrian tried to breathe; everything hurt. "Loud and clear," he gasped. He flinched a little as Del's hand came close to his face, but it was open, not balled into a fist. He looked up at his friend through blurred eyes; Del's face was expressionless. He hesitantly took the hand the older boy offered and let Del haul him up.

The stony face broke into a smile, of sorts, and Del clapped him on the back. "C'mon, cuzz. Bros before ho's, right?"

The younger boy sucked the salty blood from his lip and nodded. "Yeah, totally. Bros forever." He was never, ever going to even look at Shelly again.

* * *

"_Hand me that chisel_," Wink rumbled. Orchid picked through his stoneworking pouch until she found the right tool and gave it to him. He tapped it against the rough side of a block, smoothing it a little more before sliding it into place. The oven had not long held its integrity against the intensity of the hot rocks, and the thin metal layers had melted through. Wink had uttered more imprecations about human craftsmanship as he'd torn the oven out of its niche. For two nights, he had gone to the tunnels under New York to fetch back stone to build a proper firepit.

It was something he was likely to do regardless, since a stone hearth was much easier to work metal upon than the flimsy steel counters in the kitchen. Not all of the blocks were shaped to his liking, so occasionally he had to trim one to better fit with its brothers. The rest of the blocks, forming a more rounded hearth than the one in San Fransisco, fitted together so closely that no mortar was necessary. Once he had built the overhead and set metal hooks for a hanging pan, they'd be able to cook decent food again.

She sat cross-legged off to the side as she watched him work, taking in every detail of how his hands moved while he crafted. She held a chisel and hammer, smaller than the ones he was using, and copied his careful tapping on a smaller piece of rock he'd discarded. It rocked on the floor under the tiny blows, the chisel making gouges into the stone instead of smoothing the edge. Finally, she blew her breath out from between her teeth, a habit that she'd consciously or unconsciously copied from the prince when he was frustrated. "_This rock hates me_," she complained.

Wink chuckled. "_No, stone likes you well enough. You have to earn its respect and that you will earn when _this," he set the chisel down and tapped her on the forehead, "_becomes harder than the stone is. It does not yield its secrets easily._"

"_I don't want its secrets_," she grumbled, her Troll nearly flawless. "_I just want it to stop moving when I'm trying to shape it._"

"_That is a secret within the stone too_," he grinned. "_But it takes time to learn. Why don't you go outside and see if you can find something for dinner tonight?_"

"_He won't eat it_," she said sadly. They both knew who she meant.

Wink shrugged and gave her a sly look. "_We won't tell him you got it._"

"I heard that," came a dry voice and Orchid winced a little, looking towards the sound. Nuada stood in the doorway, relaxing against one side as though he had been, by all appearances, there for quite some time. He had left that morning wearing his customary black silks and armor, and now was garbed in a deep brown surcoat over a beige tunic threaded with metal. Both the threads and the Bethmoora clan emblem at his waist glimmered gold. The stern disappointment in his ivory features, however, was only skin-deep as he shook his head and clucked with a touch of humor. "What vassals have I, that conspire to deceive their prince?"

The troll tossed the prince a grin over his beefy shoulder, switching easily to human speech. "I only said we wouldn't tell you she got dinner; not that we would lie if you asked outright."

Nuada rolled his eyes, his stern features softening into a slight smile. "Sometimes, my friend, you sound more goblin than troll. In any regard, is it not my turn to cook tonight?"

Wink and the girl exchanged a glance. "Um, technically it is," she said hesitantly, "but you've been out all day every day for a while, so we were just going to take over the chores for you. They're really our jobs anyway, aren't they?"

"If lack of activity would not drive me insane, yes," he replied. "And fairness dictates that even a prince must get his hands dirty from time to time." His eyes took in the new hearth, nearly complete, and he gave Wink an approving smile, "Excellent work, as usual."

The massive gray head nodded in grateful acknowledgement. "It will be ready within the hour," he said. "I've not had much time to locate the troll market here," Wink added, "but it should not be too far away. I have seen a fragglewump and two finntrolls in my travels, and neither will venture far into strange surroundings."

"Excellent," Nuada replied. The thought of consuming human food for much longer unsettled his stomach. He thought fondly of finding another skyfin vendor. Like many warriors, he was well used to eating even the hardest rations for long stretches of time, but that didn't mean he cared at all for them. Human food in these times, unlike a century or more ago, was so congested with oils and chemicals that most fey would retch after only a mouthful. Only trolls and goblins, and their kindred races, could tolerate "food" that was virtually garbage. It was a shame that humans were poisoning themselves slowly; he would have much preferred they use a faster toxin. "Orchid," he said, earning a hopeful look from the girl. "Do as Wink says and fetch something edible for the two of you."

Her hope dimmed. "What about you, Sire?" she asked.

"Do not concern yourself with me," he replied. He still had some travel-bread in his pack. "Go now."

Orchid stood up, putting the tools back and laying the pouch within easy reach of the troll. She sketched a hasty bow to him and left the room.

"The security of that place is laughable," Nuada said, taking a seat on the finished side of the hearth. "Humans and dogs, with some technology to make matters interesting. I do not anticipate a problem in gaining entrance to the auction house, though I doubt the pre-Christian relics are housed there."

"Likely not," Wink agreed. He slid a block into place, completing the arc of the bottom level of stones. "Humans misvalue things, but what they do value they will go to great lengths to protect."

Nuada nodded in agreement, "Precisely." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "What I saw today were glimpses of paintings and old carpets. Certainly nothing so aged as to be within Padraig's time," he mused, using the old name for Saint Patrick. "During the day, some humans are allowed within to look around; there were even a large group of children that were given a tour of the building."

The troll paused in his work and looked up at Nuada. "Are you thinking of a two-pronged attack?" he asked.

"Possibly," Nuada said. "I don't know of what use she can be inside, but many humans have a deplorable habit of overlooking children."

"She would be honored to have the chance," Wink said. He looked for a moment as if he might add more, then his attention turned back to the stones before him.

The prince watched him complete another level of brickwork. "You feel I am being too unkind," he said flatly.

Wink shrugged. "It is not my place to question you, Sire," he said.

Nuada scowled at the floor. "Then pretend I am not a prince," he said. "I want to hear the truth in your heart."

"Truth you will always have," Wink replied, "no matter the situation."

"Then I will hear it now," the Elf told him. He'd been avoiding this conversation for some time, but was now almost relieved that it could finally be discussed. Wink took his role as a guard very seriously, and despite their deep friendship, was entirely too closemouthed about things with which he disagreed. There was a time for silent compliance as in all dealings with royalty, and a time for candid speech between friends. Theirs was a unique relationship, as far as Nuada knew. Few nobles or royals ever breached the invisible barrier between themselves and their vassals. By blood and grief shed together over far too many centuries, that barrier for him and Wink was long gone.

His friend sighed, clearly uncomfortable. He fidgeted with a block before setting it carefully into place. "I know your feelings on the humans and I agree with them," he said slowly. "Yet, I cannot help but feel that she is not really human. Once, yes, but not any more. Not truly."

"Humans cannot become fey," Nuada said. "Perhaps they carry some of the blood far back in their line," and at this he suppressed a shudder; any fey mating with a human was akin to bestiality, but such instances, while rare, still existed. "But their minds and empty hearts are still human. Still ravenous and still uncaring of the harm they cause to the world around them."

"We are fey," Wink said. "Creatures as much of spirit and the earth as of flesh."

"Yes," the prince agreed. "Humans are not." He waited, suspecting Wink was not yet done.

"Being fey is not just blood, else the Lost ones would not be so. If a fey could lose that spirit which keeps them from fading... could not a human somehow gain one?"

It was a startling question, and Nuada considered it seriously before he caught himself. "Impossible," he said.

"But if it were not?"

The prince dismissed the possibility with a sharp motion of his hand. "Impossible," he repeated. "And even if it were not so, is it worth the many fey lives lost while we seek those special humans among the multitude? Shall we allow entire forests to disappear, and their inhabitants with them, as we try to find a handful of humans that _may _be different from the slavering beasts that dominate this world?"

The troll shook his head sadly. "No," he finally admitted. "It's not. Too many of us have died."

"And too many more will continue to die," Nuada said relentlessly, "if we fail to do what we must. The Golden Army will not need to kill all of humanity, but the Sons of Adam are far too numerous and must be pushed back harshly. They have long forgotten us and the world beyond theirs. It is high time that they remembered in a way that will echo down to their children's children." Assuming, of course, that there were enough humans left to perpetuate the species. He did not seek to eradicate all humans, but neither would his conscience be troubled if it happened.

The conversation had strayed somewhat from the original topic. "Would you think me kinder to be affectionate towards her, as I give the command to the Army to destroy her kind?" he asked in that same, emotionless tone. "Humans will die by the tides, and perhaps her loyalty to blood may compel her to join them. I do not know what the future holds, Wink, only that it must not hold the death of our world. Are you certain that she would not turn from you and take up arms against us in this war?"

Wink sighed heavily. Nuada waited while he gathered his thoughts. It was a difficult question to ponder, and a harder one to answer, but he wanted to know what his friend truly thought. Was he that certain of the girl's fidelity, and if so, why? Wink was among the last fey Nuada would have thought to be so charitable towards any human.

"I wouldn't," came a soft voice, yanking both their attention to the doorway. Orchid stood there, and Nuada wondered just how much she'd heard. Worse, how much had she understood? "Not ever," she added quietly.

"Was I not clear when I instructed you to go?" Nuada snapped at her, angry that she had eavesdropped yet again.

"You were, Sire," she replied, moving into the room and along the counter that crossed the wall opposite from him. Her hand reached out and picked up the satchel that had been lying there and she said, "I forgot my bag." The strap was settled over one shoulder, crossing her chest. The gauntlet within the satchel squeaked almost inaudibly as she withdrew it and put it on. "I'm sorry to keep hearing things I shouldn't."

Nuada watched her with narrow eyes, not trusting the calmness. Was this a trick, or a turning point of some kind?

"Orchid," Wink began.

"I was out the other day," she said, fidgeting with the strap of the bag. "Same day those cops were in the alley, after you'd left, your Highness. I was just exploring, seeing where everything was, you know?"

He answered only with silence, but nodded for her to continue.

"I... there was..." her voice shook a little and she took a breath to steady herself. "A man approached me. He wanted... it was gross. Anyway, I ran and he ran after me, and there were lots of people all around, but nobody tried to stop him. Nobody even looked up." Orchid's jaw set as she looked at the other two. "Fey would never ignore that."

"No," Nuada said. "We would not." Then again, it was nearly unheard of for adult fey to prey upon children. Nearly. The memory of the lamia in the troll market came to mind and he shook it away. Destruction of the body was one thing; annihilation of innocence was far, far worse. Even he could not abide that travesty while he'd wandered the earth. Some humans he'd encountered had vanished, never to be seen or heard from again, especially by the children they victimized.

"You're my family," Orchid said. "Even without swearing to you, your Highness, you were my friend first. I know you don't feel the same way, but..." she shrugged to finish the statement. "In any case, I'd be nuts to choose them over you. Humans suck. If you're going to start a war with them, then they must deserve it, because you don't do anything without a really good reason."

He blinked, not expecting so crude or bald a declaration. She was _human_, but her words were fey.

"Anyway," she said. "I'm sorry I heard stuff you didn't want me to hear, but I'm kind of not sorry at the same time, you know? There's been a lot of things I just didn't understand before, and now I do." The fidgeting gradually moved from the strap to the edges of her jacket.

"Do you mean," Nuada asked slowly, not certain he quite understood her earlier words, "that you would betray your own kind and cleave to the fey?"

"Humans are not my kind," she said.

"By what logic do you say such a thing?" he questioned.

The fidgeting stopped and she looked at him, a few strands of hair falling over her not-green, not-brown eyes. He realized with a start that they were a similar color to troll eyes. The gauntlet squeaked as she made a fist and tapped it over her heart. "_Loh'krenn_," she said.

_Until death_.

It was unprincely for his mouth to fall open, but fall open it did. He closed it quickly. Wink looked similarly stunned.

"Anyway," she said, turning her face away as a light blush colored her cheeks. "Don't worry about me. I won't ever betray you, Sire." The side of her mouth quirked in a crooked half-grin, her mood as mercurial as any adolescent's as she added, "And I have my orders. Be back soon!"

They both watched her leave, and Nuada looked at the troll. "Wink... did that just happen?"


	12. Chapter 11

_AN: I couldn't resist a bit of Nuada eye candy here... This chapter is the longest one yet, and has a bit of gore at the end. I finished this late at night, so there are doubtless some rough spots that I will edit later. !HUGS! to everyone for such wonderful comments - you've really settled a lot of my fears about this story. :-) 8/11 - minor edits, mostly at the end.  
_

* * *

An ivory beeswax candle was set in a cooled puddle of its own wax on the desk. It was the only light in the room, save for the false glow that came from white skin in that single illumination. Muscles honed by countless hours of battle both real and imagined flexed and rippled, with only the occasional scar marring the smooth expanse of flesh. Nuada concentrated on the window before him, its dim glass temporarily turned into a mirror by the candlelight. His body flowed from one slow, controlled motion to the next, his eyes watching his reflection for any deviation in form or balance. His eyebrows drew together in frustration as he again noted a slight pull to the left during a pattern of slashes and thrusts that he favored.

He'd noticed the flaw while practicing this morning and had stripped off his clothes to watch his own muscles as he moved, eyeing each one with care to determine wherein lay the imperfection. After a few passes, he had narrowed it down to his abdominal muscles along the left side of his stomach. In another few seconds, he knew why. A little too much exercise had been emphasized on his right, and it was slightly better developed than the left.

Nuada stopped in his mirrored practice, rubbing the side of his thumb over his lips. Normally, he would be in a proper salle, like the one he was first tutored in. Large enough for voices to echo, the salle had been inlaid with panels of Elven silver, smoothed and polished to a perfect sheen. Far more durable than the silvered glass humans used, nobody feared that a slipped weapon might break the mirrors. He had spent long afternoons and evenings before those mirrors, repeating attacks and defenses over and over, while a weapon master studied his movements with harsh criticism. Nuada always saw the imperfections in his form as quickly as the weapon masters, and he spent extra time practicing alone to erode away those flaws until every thrust and spin was like the panels of Elven silver: perfect.

In exile, he had far less opportunity to practice before a mirror, but he still managed on occasion. Not since some years before San Francisco, however, had one of those occasions presented itself. He ran his long fingers through his hair, pulling it back from his face and behind his shoulders before picking up his shirt. Now that he knew why his form was flawed, he could instruct Wink on how to help him refine it again.

A high-pitched squeal of laughter came from below and he pulled a fresh tunic over his head as he went to the window and looked down into the rave.

Wink was sitting with Orchid in the sunken dance area, and they were practically crawling with cats. Since they had moved into this place, Nuada had found other cats that lived in the basement and walls, and four of them had litters of kittens that followed them about. While initially shy around the human, the cats were gradually coaxed out by cans of cat food that Orchid had brought home. He doubted that she'd realized just how many felines were in residence.

Though the girl tried to catch kittens to pet, they fled from her and huddled on and behind Wink. Nuada considered the utter incongruity of the image, then shrugged it away. He was learning to no longer be surprised by antics that Wink engaged in with his pet. One brave black and silver tabby approached an open can of food near Orchid's knee, and she contented herself with that one and the adults that pushed at each other for food. Wink gently disengaged clinging kittens from his shoulders and neck, and reached over to drop them into Orchid's lap. They tolerated the human briefly before wriggling away and going back to the troll.

"_We're running out of food_," Orchid giggled. Nuada frowned suddenly before realizing she meant food for the cats. "_They're going to run off again when it's gone._"

"_You should have brought more_," he said to her, carefully picking a kitten off the top of his head. Its fur bristled up as his fingers approached it, and the tiny fanged mouth opened with hisses like swift puffs of air. It swiped at his finger and the tiny claws became imbedded in the slightly softer skin bordering Wink's thick nail. He pulled his hand away, the kitten thrashing in midair as it dangled from his finger by one paw.

The troll held his hand out to Orchid and she untangled the kitten's claws from his hand. As soon as its feet were back on solid ground, it looked up at Wink and hissed again, then darted away. "_I didn't know there were so many cats here_," she said. "_Four cans was enough for that one family behind the stage for a couple of days, but there's hundreds of them!_"

"_Not hundreds_," he chuckled, twisting to look down his shoulder at other kittens leaping up his back to catch the bristles there. "_Dozens, yes. Hard to count when they're milling about like this._"

She grinned at him. "_I'm going to go get more_," she said, standing carefully with an armful of kittens. The girl stepped gingerly around cats licking the bottoms of the cans and dumped her burden of felines into Wink's lap. He gave her a long-suffering sigh and she laughed, bending down to kiss his cheek, earning a half-hug and tender pat from him in return. "_I'll be back soon,_" she promised and went into the kitchen to fetch her things.

Nuada's eyes widened. She'd kissed him? That she bore a measure of affection for Wink was obvious and had been for some time, but with nothing else to distract him, Nuada now found himself wondering about the troll's apparent return of the feelings. The first, and worst, thing that came to mind was a budding romance. His mouth turned down in disgust at the idea. A troll and a human? It was preposterous and aberrant in the extreme; Nuada would never allow it.

And yet, at the same time, he did want his friend to be happy once more. If Wink was happy with a... with a... Nuada shook his head, trying to banish unwelcome images from his mind. If the troll was happy with a human, into what relief did that cast his and Wink's relationship? Should he cleave to the side of friendship and let Wink have his way, or assert his authority and save them both the grief of being rejected by fey and humans alike?

The prince scowled and finished dressing. Life would have been so much simpler if he'd just ordered Wink to get rid of his pet the first night the little tagalong had followed him home, rather than let the troll keep her. Now she was entwined in their day-to-day lives, though evidently far more in Wink's than Nuada had thought, and every day that passed distanced him from the ease of any solution that might rectify the situation to his liking.

And it didn't help matters when he recalled what he intended to get at the troll market today. It had been nearly a week since his last visit to the auction house and though he'd meant to return to scout the interior of the building under the noses of the inferior guards, it occurred to him that the humans would rely upon technology much more heavily inside. Yesterday he'd decided to use the girl to reconnoiter and locate those cameras for him, so he could better avoid them.

However, whatever her origins, she was a street rat, and only that because she'd taken the initiative to leave the sewers of San Francisco to perform services for him and Wink. Her manners were crude, her posture and appearance deplorable and her clothing a disgrace. Blackwood's was considered by humans to be a fine establishment, located in an equally upscale neighborhood. Orchid would be immediately suspect as soon as she approached the front door.

Her new lessons, which would be the hardest she would ever master, he thought with a touch of disdain, would be to adopt good poise and carriage in order to foray into the world of the human society. Tutoring her was no doubt going to be equal parts frustration and hilarity for Nuada.

He belted his tunic and checked his purse for bartering goods, then banded his crimson silk sash over the belt and tied it securely. Nuada pinched the wick of the candle to snuff the flame. Humans had a tendency to puff up their cheeks and blow a candle out, but using Air to extinguish Fire was a serious insult to the element. Fire, more than any other element, treasured a grudge and it never surprised him when mysterious blazes wrecked human homes. He left the office without closing the door, despite the bunch of grapes on the desk that he'd found on his bed the previous night. She stayed out of his possessions, so he could overlook the incursions that left fruit in odd places.

"Wink," he said to the cat-covered troll. His friend looked up, a small calico planted between his eyebrows and Nuada's mouth twitched in amusement. "Later tonight, after she returns, you and she will go back out and find suitable clothing in her size."

"Suitable for what?" Wink asked.

Nuada glanced down to adjust his bracers. His sword and halfspear crossed each other on his back, and half-gloves of softest black fawnskin covered his hands. "Suitable for spying in well-to-do areas," he replied. "Nothing overly fancy, but it must pass human muster otherwise."

The troll nodded, dislodging the calico and sending it rolling down his face. He caught it quickly and placed it back among its brothers and sisters. "As you wish," he said. "Do you go now to the auction house?"

The prince felt the weight in his purse and sighed. "No, I've changed my mind about entering tonight. Perhaps in a few days, if she applies herself to preparing for this task as much as she has done so to tumbling about in the sewers. Now, where did you find the troll market for this city?"

"East end of the Brooklyn Bridge," Wink replied, standing slowly to carefully disengage from the felines that clung to him like burrs. "There is a fragglewump that lurks nearby; she will show you the exact entrance."

Nuada's firegold eyes dropped back down to the cats. "Will she require payment?"

The troll shook his head. "No, there are many stray felines in that area and she has a considerable larder that she keeps with her." He winced as a gray kitten that blended into the hue of his skin jumped from his shoulder to catch at his ear with its claws. On its second attempt, the claws caught in the rough texture and it kicked frantically at the lobe. Nuada bit his lips together to keep from laughing as he left.

The troll market was far more cramped than its San Francisco counterpart, but held enough vendors of strange goods that Nuada felt confident of finding what he required. The troll markets took it as a point of pride that anything could be found within for the right price, eventually.

He found a skyfin vendor quickly and bought several preserved fillets to take home. Each one was wrapped in paper made from grains grown in hag-swamps, then boiled until soft and pounded flat to dry into sheets. It was technically edible, but it was always best to eat the wrapping with the skyfin's fiery flavor to mask the zest of hag. He nibbled on one dried strip of the fish as he walked, pausing at a two-headed bugbear selling nekthel and purchased a number of the sweetsmoked vermin for Wink.

More difficult to find, however, was a vendor selling toiletries. Nuada searched the different stalls and tables, winding his way through the crowd until he located a small shop tucked into a dark corner near a massive meat grinder. Despite the darkened exterior, inside the shop, the decor was a tribute to the most pastel hues of the rainbow. Great wings of silk so sheer he could see through three layers of them were draped about the shop, encasing the inside in a soft cocoon of harem drapes. Gold and jewels in the same feminine hues decorated the edges of the shrouds and clasped them back in dainty chains. He rested a hand on his sash, feeling the narrow shape of the twin-dagger within as if it were a talisman against the sugary surroundings.

The proprietor was a black-feathered ekek, who gave him a fanged smile as he entered. She looked, as he did in his black garb, much like a drop of ink spilled upon a silk gown. The effect must have been deliberate, since it drew any newcomer's attention to her. "_Greetings, my lord_," she purred. One three-taloned hand rested on her hip while the other was on the table as she leaned towards him, deliberately dipping her body forward so that her cleavage was better displayed for his inspection. Feathered wings were slicked against her back, the ebon pinions sheened with hues of violet and green. "_How may I serve you today?_"

Nuada kept his attention above her neck. Ekeks fed on flesh, and he had no doubt she would "accidentally" bite more than he wanted her to have if he gave in to her invitation. "_I'm looking for a few items,_" he began, "_for a female... er..._" The word friend was discarded immediately, as was companion. "._..servant_," he finished.

The ekek gave him a knowing look. "_I see_," she said in a throaty voice. "_What items might those be? Prevention of offspring, perhaps?_"

He resisted the urge to scowl at her, or give any indication that the question bothered him, despite the fact that any answer he gave would be suggestively incriminating. "_I seek a comb and mirror set,_" he said, ignoring the question. "_Something not opulent. Something... durable_," he told her, recalling how rough the girl could be with her own possessions at times.

The ekek nodded, the sable crest on her head fluttering with amusement. "_I see. A cheap trinket for your leman. I have just the thing_," she said, bending over to retrieve something from under the table before he could correct her. She straightened back up slowly, giving him a saucy wink as she showed him a matching comb and mirror backed in finely carved carnelian. "_Will this be appropriate, or would you prefer something which shows less regard?_"

Nuada tried not to grind his teeth; it made the muscles over his temples jump. The custom of nobles giving small gifts to their lovers, particularly those they took among servants was one he had, in fact, employed in the past. It galled him that he could neither affirm nor deny the ekek's insinuations. To do the former would be untrue; and to do the latter would only amuse the bird-demon more. He regretted not saying that the items were for a female cousin, rather than a servant, but a part of him suspected that the ekek would still infer something scandalous no matter what story he concocted for her.

"_Those will suffice_," he said slowly. "_I must also find a..._" again he hesitated. Just being here was uncomfortable, without the sly glint in the ekek's orange eyes. The words were on the tip of his tongue, yet he was reluctant to let them free.

"_A... necklace?_" she suggested. "_Some other trinket?_"

He ground his teeth and closed his eyes. "_A cosmetics kit_," he muttered.

She laughed softly. "_Dark skin?_" she asked.

"_No, pale, but not Elven_." He winced as that made the ekek chuckle again. He could feel the first beginnings of droplets forming at his hairline and silently cursed himself for not having Wink deal with this vendor.

"_Any undertones or sheens? Feathers, fur, scales or bare skin?_" Despite the professional questions, the ekek was clearly becoming more and more entertained by his discomfort.

_Undertones and sheens?_ he wondered. "_Beige, I think_," he said. "_Bare skin._"

"_All over?_" she asked archly. He ignored her laugh again as he nodded. "_Hair and eye color?_" she asked, turning to a rack behind the counter and deftly picking out small pots and brushes. She set them into an open basket near the rack that was lined with deep green satin and contained several hollows that perfectly fit the different containers.

"_Dark brown and... a mix of green and brown_." Never before had he wished so fervently for a hole to open up at his feet to swallow him.

The ekek picked out three more tiny urns and set them into the basket. A woven lid that matched the basket was set over it and green silk cords unwound themselves from the basket to weave through the edge of the lid, securing it tightly. She picked it up in both hands and presented it to him with that same knowing smirk. "_I'm certain she will make great use of these. I use only the finest ingredients to mix my paints._"

"_Yes, yes_," Nuada said, anxious to leave. He almost looked forward to exercising his abysmal skill at bartering.

The ekek bent down and rested her elbows on the table. One clawed hand supported her small chin. "_I do not often see warriors in here,_" she purred again. "_Nor has any noble purchased skinpaints for his mistress._"

The prince snorted. "_Hardly my mistress_," he grumbled.

Her feathers twitched with interest and he immediately regretted saying that much. "_Are they for your sister, the Lady Princess, then?_" she asked lightly. "_You should know she does not favor those shades for herself._"

Nuada's discomfort vanished. "_My sister has been here?_" he asked, his interest snared.

"_Oh yes_," the ekek said, idly running a claw along the edge of her vest where it dipped between her breasts. His eyes were drawn almost irresistibly down to follow the movement before he pulled his attention back up. "_Frequently_," she said huskily.

That meant Nuala was residing close by, and if she was, then so too must be his father and the courts... Their bond was not so strong as it had once been, but it relieved him to know that the sense of her scent enveloping him in this city was not just his imagination. "_Then tell me_," he said, sitting on the edge of the table to join her in her flirtatious game. He craved news of his beloved twin. "_Tell me of her visits here, and what she purchases, and why_."

* * *

Small tin cans rattled together in her satchel as Orchid walked down the sidewalk. They clattered softly against the bits of interesting stone or minerals she found, by some means or other, and the gauntlet buried underneath them. She'd had to carry it about in her bag, since her jacket had lost its buttons long before she'd found it, and had a tendency to flap open at the wrong times. The gauntlet was still a comforting weight to balance the drag of marbles in the pocket of her coat. Early June in New York hadn't yet begun to press its humid weight upon the people, but the warning was in the air. She chewed absently on her bottom lip as she tried to think of where to pack her gear so that she didn't have to sweat out the summer in a long-sleeved jacket.

Brooklyn also had far more hot dog vendors than San Francisco ever did, which was strangely sadistic, since the shiny steel carts were far more secure and the proprietors more wary of street children than she was used to seeing. It saddened her that she would not be able to nick several hot dogs for Wink. One, perhaps two, if she was quick enough, but not enough to satisfy the troll's appetite.

She stopped at one vendor, with twin blue and yellow umbrellas shading his cart. In front of her was a tall man with red hair cut very close to his scalp. Orchid fidgeted with the strap of her bag, waiting while the other customer ordered his toppings. As soon as he had paid the vendor and stepped aside, she walked forward, standing on her toes to look over the shelf that topped the glass shielding the food. Another customer walked up behind her and she glanced back at the oriental teen only briefly before looking back at the vendor, a beefy black man in his fifties. He gave her a friendly smile, "What'll it be?"

"Nathan's footlong," she said.

"Don't sell no Nathan's here," he replied. "How about a real dog - a juicy Sabrett?"

"Uh... okay," she said, watching him pick out a long hot dog and set it into a hot bun that was kept warm by a steel cabinet. Cans of several different sodas were displayed in the window shield, with bags of chips arrayed on poles on either end. "Ketchup and mustard, eggplant and pickles," she added, answering the toppings question before he asked.

"Eggplant?" he asked with a chuckle. The other customer was eating his hot dog nearby and laughed too, giving her a knowing wink. She'd never seen eyes that blue before. "You must be from California," the elderly black man said. "How about some nice, fire-roasted zucchini instead?"

"Sure, whatever." She watched him as he made the dog, her heart sinking a little at the quick glances he gave to her and to either side. His cart was set up on the sidewalk with just enough room from the curb for him to stand at the very edge of the street. The dogs were kept in a covered basin on his right; the buns in the steel cabinet to his left. It was much more secure than the open carts of the bay area vendors. "How much?"

"Dollar-fifty," he replied. "Want a soda with that?" The other customer balled up his napkin and threw it away, giving her a farewell smile as he left. It was a pretty nice smile, for a human, but she preferred Wink's.

Orchid shook her head, not certain she had enough change at the bottom of her satchel to pay for this. Orchid dug into the bag, pushing aside the cans of cat food carefully so as not to expose the gauntlet. Underneath it, she scraped up a handful of coins and began to count out pennies. The vendor's smile vanished and he gave her an annoyed look. "Girl, don't play around here. I ain't got all day."

"I'm sorry, I'm almost done."

He sighed irritably and waited, holding the dog away until the full amount was reached. She dug into her bag again as the total came up sixty-eight cents short. Four more coins were in the bottom, but a quarter, two dimes and a penny wasn't going to make it. She blushed a deep red as he scowled at her. "Um... half a hot dog?" she ventured.

"Nice try, kid," he said, turning to throw the dog away.

"Hey, I'll pay for it," said the guy behind her. He leaned forward and set a dollar on the shelf, "And a Pepsi too." He winked at her as she sidled away. "I'll have a footlong too, with mustard and relish and onions."

"Allright," the proprietor said, mollified by the money. He handed the hot dog and a cold can of soda to Orchid. The other guy, not much older than she was, turned to her as the vendor started on his order. A healing cut marred the side of his lower lip, and a bruise fading to yellows and greens decorated his cheekbone. "Hi. I'm Adrian."

She eyed him warily. "Orchid," she said reluctantly. She stuffed the soda can into her right pocket and took a bite of the hot dog. The casing parted with a tiny snap between her teeth, and the zucchini was almost as good as eggplant.

His black eyes crinkled as he grinned. "That's an odd name. But it's pretty. I like it. Are you really from California?"

Orchid shrugged, taking a small step away as he paid for his hot dog and drink. He moved aside, towards her, to let the next customer up to the counter. "Grew up there," she finally said, not certain what was safe to say and what was not. She fidgeted with her satchel strap with one hand while biting into the hot dog with the other.

"I bet you see a lot of celebrities, don't you?" he asked, his words muffled by a mouthful of food. She shrugged again and looked away. "C'mon, don't be shy. Everyone is new somewhere at some point in their lives, right?"

"I guess," she said noncommittally, looking down the street. Farther down the block was what looked like an open-air market, and she could see signs written in Chinese that way. "Well, nice to meet you, but I gotta run. Thanks for the hot dog." She ducked around him and trotted down the sidewalk, relieved at making her escape.

The Chinese signs were set over a small stall that held cheap, painted umbrellas and plastic geisha dolls with wobbly heads. Across from it was another merchant selling small leather goods like wallets, belts and purses. She ignored them and went into the narrow space between to see the markets farther into the space between buildings, stuffing the last bite of hot dog into her mouth as she went. The napkin was shoved into her left pocket and the marbles within clicked against her fingers. Some kind of food was cooking back there; it wasn't hot dogs, but if it was easy to steal, she'd take some home to Wink and see if he liked it.

An open cart, not too dissimilar from the hot dog carts in the bay area, was set up near the geisha doll seller. Several large flat steel pans were arranged at angles facing the customer, and each one held a strange food. One had small scorpions deep fried on sticks, another held breaded squid tentacles, and a third displayed baked crickets alternating with small red peppers on thin bamboo skewers. Behind the counter, a Chinese man noticed her attention and barked, "Good food, fresh food. Nutritious, too. Just two dollars for a stick!"

"I wouldn't, if I were you," Adrian said right behind her. She nearly jumped out of her skin, and he grinned. "Scorpions are poisonous, and those peppers'll take the roof right off your mouth."

Orchid scowled at him, unconsciously mirroring the prince's glower. "Why are you following me?"

"Because you're cute and you're playing hard to get," he teased. He looked up at the vendor and spoke to him in a strange, twanging human language. The vendor pointed at the crickets and answered in the same language, his tone indignant. Adrian scoffed and pointed at the scorpions, a heavy irony in his voice. The vendor glared at the teenager and said something else; by his tone and Adrian's smirk, it hadn't exactly been professional. "Are you still hungry?" he asked.

"No," she said, drawing away from him again.

"Mm-hmm," he said. "Your cheeks say otherwise. Don't your folks feed you at all?" He spoke to the vendor again in that strange language, and the man shrugged and fished out some egg rolls into a paper carton. "What do you like on your egg rolls?"

"I don't want any," Orchid said sullenly, not sure why this pesky human couldn't just leave her alone.

"Hot mustard and soy," Adrian said to the vendor. Both were ladeled into small bowls and handed over. He paid for the egg rolls and offered her the carton. She shook her head. "C'mon. I already paid for it, and I can't eat all these. You gotta have at least one - people are starving in the world."

She finally capitulated and took one, muttering a thanks she didn't really feel. He offered her the bowl of mustard, and she took it with a frown. "I prefer shopping alone."

"And broke, apparently," Adrian winked at her. "Since you're shopping, I have a bridge to sell you."

She gave him a curious look, despite trying to squash it down. "A bridge?"

"Yeah," he laughed and waved his hand back down the way they'd come. "The Brooklyn Bridge - you can't see it in here, obviously, but go past the railyard and to the waterfront and you'll see it. You can have it if you give me your phone number."

"Can't you just go away?" she asked, sticking the egg roll in the mustard and pushing the yellow paste around the bowl with it.

He shrugged, taking a sauce-darkened bite from the end of an eggroll. "I could, I guess, but I don't want to."

Orchid sighed with frustration and began to stalk away. She glanced back and scowled again to see him following. The girl quickened her pace, and he sped up to match her, until she was nearly running out of the market alley. They came out on the other side, between two wood fences underneath several clotheslines stretched between apartment windows. "Leave me alone!" she almost yelled.

"I can't," he said. "You got my mustard," and he dipped another egg roll into the mustard with a smirk. She almost threw it in his face, but movement in the market behind him made her back away as two more teenage boys, a black one and a white one, came out of the narrow shop area, slowing to a walk as they caught up to him.

"Damn, Adrian," said the black one. "What the hell did you go and run off like that for? You was just going for a dog." His brown eyes skipped over to Orchid and looked her up and down. "Who's the chick, cuzz?"

"Del, this is Orchid. Orchid, Del and Jerko, my friends."

She shuffled her feet nervously and glanced behind herself at the other end of the alley. The space between apartments ended at another alley that ran perpendicular to this one, and she wasn't sure which way to take. In the bay area, she'd known the city above her home like the back of her hand; here, nothing was laid out in any sensible order. She edged away from the three without really thinking about it, only wanting to get back to the safety of Midnighrunner.

"Hey," the black one, Del, said, pulling her attention back. The look on his face was less friendly than before. "Why're you acting like we're big, bad guys?" he asked.

Her hair swayed across her shoulders as she shook her head. "I'm not; I just have to get home. I... I'm late."

"Oh, okay, cool," the black teen nodded with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Where do you live?" he asked casually.

"I'm new in town," she said. "I don't remember the address, just how to get there." If this human thought she was going to lead them to the prince and Wink, he was even dumber than the prince gave humans credit for.

Adrian was watching the darker teen, and he expression on his face was laced with worry. She wasn't sure what that might mean, but a sinking feeling in her midsection told her she needed to get away fast. This was a bad area for a confrontation, and this Del seemed to be spoiling for one, like the prince whenever she did something wrong. "Which direction, then?" he pressed, the suspicion in his words thickening with each syllable.

The human's rudeness and pushy questions touched off a flare of anger. "That way," she said irritably, pointing in a random direction. Adrian had been obtrusive but not hostile. This Del was shaping up to be a real asshole.

"Mmm," he nodded, his eyes still on her and not following where she pointed. "Why don't I believe you?"

"Why don't I care?" she shot back, her temper waving farewell to her patience.

He stepped forward, his body language indicating he was accustomed to using his height and broad shoulders to intimidate others. He was puny compared to a troll and she glared right back at him. "Look, little girl. My cuzz here don't know much about who to avoid around here." He eyed her up and down, like he had earlier, but more invasive and appraising. "Don't see no tags. You with a set?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"A gang, puta," he growled. "Are you in a gang?"

She didn't recognize the human word. "We don't call ourselves that," she said, her hand itching to slip into her gauntlet.

"Tell me about it, then," Del said, his tone brooking no disagreement.

It was a pale shadow to the prince's commanding tone and she said flatly, "No."

For some reason, that seemed to really anger him. He grabbed her by her jacket and lifted her up so that her nose was nearly against his. "My territory, bitch," he snarled. "Tell me about your gang!"

She tipped her hand over, letting the egg roll fall out of the mustard, then brought the cup up and smashed it into Del's eyes. He shrieked as the hot mustard burned him and dropped her. She hit the ground and dashed away, holding the bag up so it didn't knock against her legs and throw off her pace. Behind her, she could hear Del shouting at the others to get her.

Orchid ran faster, taking the left turn out of the alley. She burst out onto a crowded sidewalk running alongside Nassau Avenue and dropped into a running crouch, weaving around pedestrians as she went. A quick glance back saw the other boy, Jerko, fumbling and colliding with people as he tried to follow. She smirked at his clumsiness and dove forward in a roll between the legs of a suited man, who shouted and dropped his briefcase as she shot through and into the intersection. Car horns blared and she jumped up to slide across the hood of a yellow cab whose brakes screeched it to a stop after she'd passed it.

Another look back; Del had caught up to his friend and was shoving people out of the way. She rounded the corner and dug into her pocket for a handful of marbles, scattering them behind her. Just ahead, she could see an open area of grass with a fountain, some kind of park. Beyond that, was the railyard Adrian had mentioned and she could faintly make out the shape of a bridge.

Human profanity behind her drew her gaze back and she laughed to see Del and Jerko tangled up on the ground. She took a deep breath and coaxed more speed out of her aching legs. Long practices with the prince had improved her stamina, but this was the most upright running she'd ever done.

There were people in the park, milling around the fountain with small children splashing in it. Beyond the fountain, there was a large pavilion and off to the right, a bronze statue of a winged woman set upon a large granite base. Orchid ducked and wound around people again, using them to camouflage her flight and darted behind the statue's base. She set her back against it, her chest heaving with breath as she looked for someplace to hide.

The pavilion was no good; it was too open. She saw no restrooms or anything enclosed within the park, and beyond the far border... Her interest sharpened at the sight of the church to the east. There were large stretches of grass between her and that edge of the park, with very few people. They would see her dashing that way.

"She's here," Del shouted. "I seen her fugly ass come over here!"

Orchid peeked carefully around the corner. Del and Jerko were halfway between the fountain and the statue, looking all around. Del's eyes were bloodshot and he wiped the constant tears from them with his knuckles. Adrian came up behind them, panting much harder than she was. "Del, cuzz, just let it go, man. She's no trouble-"

Del spun on him, his fist coming around to punch him solidly in the mouth. Adrian clapped his hands over his lower face and dropped like a bag of rocks. "She's hiding something," Del screamed. "I'm willin' to bet she's a Blood slut an' _that's_ why she ain't talkin' 'bout her gang. She's a spy!"

Adrian rolled over and spat blood out onto the concrete. He gave Del a sullen look, but held his peace.

_So much for any help there_, she thought scornfully. Del began to stalk on ahead, looking around for any sign of her. Jerko followed him, and as they began to come close to a line of sight to her, she edged carefully around the base of the statue away from them, towards the church.

It meant she was in full view of Adrian, just pushing himself up from the ground. Blood ran freely down his chin and his eyes widened as he saw her. Their eyes locked for a moment, then he broke contact as he glanced quickly at Del. He waved a hand at her, silently mouthing, _Go._

Orchid ran. Her footsteps went from muffled thumps in the grass to heavy slaps on the concrete sidewalk as she sprinted to the church. A Trollish curse curled out of her throat as she heard Del shout again as he came after her. Her tattered sneakers took the church steps two at a time and she hit the door, fully expecting it to open with her momentum. The dusty, carved doors held firm and she bounced back off them, nearly landing flat on her back. The girl sprang up again, muttering more Troll profanity at the rusted chain and lock that wound around the handles. She pounded on the door with both fists, "Help me!" she shouted. "Please let me in!"

Nobody answered immediately, and she couldn't afford to wait for one. Del was at the edge of the grass in the park, with Jerko right behind him. She ran around the side of the church, grabbing the cyclone fence that bordered it and hauling herself up. As soon as her shoulders cleared the top, she grasped the fence from the other side and flipped herself over, landing in a light crouch on the sidewalk. Her pursuers changed their course to match hers and she took off running once more.

As she ran, she didn't imagine herself a skinny human girl. She imagined herself a trollkin. _Legs that are half as long move twice as fast_, Wink had told her, and she envisioned her legs bent, like a goblin's, moving in a blur as she scanned everything around her, searching for obstacles to confound her enemies. She glanced down an alley and saw that it opened onto another street. The Brooklyn Bridge seemed much closer than it had been before. _The troll market! _she realized. She'd be safer there than out here.

She turned abruptly, throwing her hands up to catch herself on the wall of the alley and bouncing off it to continue without slowing. On the street ahead of her, a flatbed truck was stopped in the street, several short lengths of large concrete cylinders fastened crossways on the bed. She could see through each tube to the Polish bakery on the other side.

Orchid grinned nastily. Del was chasing her into her field of battle. She glanced back to see if he was still following - he was just turning the corner, in fact - and willed a burst of speed into her feet. The girl threw herself forward, ignoring the traffic in the intervening lane, to dive into one of the tubes, turning that dive into a roll to carry herself to the other end and out. She hit the sidewalk in another tumble, using a fat woman walking several chihuahuas to break her fall and scrambling out of the suddenly frantic mass of dogs. Trash cans were grabbed and thrown behind her as she ran, forcing Del to jump over them or run around them. Every extra move he had to make slowed him down and earned her another few inches of distance.

Another hot dog vendor was set up on Green Avenue, almost in the shadow of the Brooklyn tower of the bridge. The young Arab man turned away from his cart briefly to dispose of a plastic bag, missing her as she tore past and halted just long enough to grab the corner of his cart and heave it back and to the side, tipping it over to block the sidewalk. Buns and dogs, and boiling water and heating elements spilled out and she ran again before the Arab could even gather his wits to shout for help.

Every obstacle she made was costing her, though. The motions of her arms and the strength it took to pull objects in the way were creating a painful stitch in her side, and her breath burned in her chest.

The bridge was so close... and no fey would just stand idly by...

She sprinted across the street, leaping up and sliding across another car hood as traffic braked abruptly. She hit the ground on one foot and one knee, gritting her teeth against the pain and surging up to continue fleeing past a grocer that was hosing off the sidewalk. Her sneakers skidded on the wet concrete and she let the forward motion of her body carry her while her legs caught up. There was another alley just before the tower and she took another sharp turn, bouncing herself off the wall again to keep as much of her flagging speed as possible.

A heavy hand snatched the shoulder of her jacket and threw her sideways like a doll. She turned her shoulder against the wall, taking the impact there with a low grunt and roll as the wind was knocked out of her. The cans rattled loudly in her bag and she shoved her hand into the sack for her gauntlet. Del, even more out of breath than she, saw the motion and moved faster. He snatched a revolver from the back of his pants and pointed it right at her forehead. "No more, puta," he said, trying for a growl but gasping the words instead, "Tag, you're it." The blonde one, Jerko, puffed hard as he caught up to Del.

Orchid gripped the ends of the satchel, at the base of the strap on either side, and slung it straight up, knocking the gun out of his hand. He recovered quickly from his surprise, and brought his left forearm around in a vertical strike to knock her hands aside. Nearly as fast as the prince, he continued the spin into a kick that landed across her face, snapping her head back and into the brick wall. Pain exploded up into her head, giving him the moment he needed to retrieve his gun. He grabbed her by a fistful of her denim jacket and reversed the gun in his other hand, swinging the butt against her jaw and sending her head rocking back the other way.

"Del!" Adrian shouted breathlessly from the mouth of the alley. "Stop - don't do it!"

The black kid glared at Adrian, then turned those furious eyes onto her. He shoved her back against the wall again with all his strength and the back of her skull met it with a low crack. Her eyes rolled up into her head and she collapsed bonelessly. Del dropped her and a few cans rattled out of her satchel. He gave her a kick for good measure, and stalked back towards Adrian, waving his gun as he spoke. "Don't do it?" he mocked. "You got suck-ass taste in girls, cuzz," he said, turning suddenly to point the gun at Orchid, his finger tightening on the trigger.

His hand dropped from his arm. Del stared at it dumbly, not comprehending the image of his hand, gun still held in it, lying on the ground or the blood spurting from the stump his arm had suddenly become. The air before him wavered, like it did on the streets on really hot days, and a tall man with white skin and hair just... appeared... out of nowhere. Yellow irises flared, almost glowing with a palpable heat of fury in the dark pits of his eyes and all Del could think was, _What the fu-_

The sword that shimmered into sight with the stranger was stained with blood. It flashed once, and Del felt a strange compulsion to swallow, but couldn't. Wet warmth sheeted down his chest and stomach and he staggered backwards, his only hand coming up to feel a gaping slash crossing his throat. His fingers slipped inside the sticky flow and he could feel the nubs of his own vertebra. His mouth worked soundlessly as he tried to ask a question, one of a thousand that suddenly seemed vitally important now that he couldn't ask them any more.

"Del!" one of the other boys yelled and charged in as the first one sank to his knees, dead before he hit the ground. Nuada met him with a single, vicious downward stroke that opened his head from crown to chin. He kicked the blonde hard in the chest, shoving him off his sword and spinning to bring it back around in an arc to cut the human in half. Partial arms and organs spilled out onto the ground, adding to the scarlet puddles already there.

Nuada glanced up at the third boy, the one with the bruise on his face. The boy's sallow complexion turned an ashen white at the implacable menace he saw in the Elf's eyes. The human scrambled backwards and ran, fleeing from Nuada.

The entire time, from the moment he'd dropped his glamour, had been less than four seconds. He watched and listened for more attackers, then sheathed his sword when he was satisfied there would be none. Not right away, in any regard.

Nuada went back to the girl, keeping part of his senses directed behind him should more humans attack. He knelt down on one knee beside her and checked her breath. Though slow and shallow, it was steady. One white thumb pulled up an eyelid and the prince frowned at the sluggish pupil response. He carefully felt her head with both hands, his fingertips searching for the slightest movement in the bone beneath. There were two swellings at the back of her head, one of which was growing large quickly, and a nearly black bruise on her jaw. Other than that, her skull seemed sound.

That he felt relief did not surprise him. That he felt a great measure of it did. He gave the unconscious girl a look that held the last scraps of his remaining anger, though for once, it was not aimed at her. He had not thought that a human servant, even a sworn one, could engender a similar reaction as if she were, well, not human. His rage had been only for the cretins that attacked _his _vassal, and the possessive anger that had taken over his reactions had startled him.

Loyalty that had been freely given was apparently, despite his best intentions, returned. He frowned as he turned that over and over in his mind. Could he return a human servant's loyalty, and still remain faithful to his people?

Nuada glowered at the bodies of the humans as he gathered her limp body into his arms, realizing that the question had arrived some time after the answer. A part of him noted grimly that the human corpses were fortunate it was Nuada that had come upon the scene and not Wink. The troll would likely have taken his time mangling the humans that had hurt her.

He transferred the girl over one shoulder, keeping one arm around her legs to hold her in place. The other shoulder bore the weight of his market purchases and still seemed heavier than she. He murmured the words to call his magic to cloak him again, sending more power into it to make himself and his burdens invisible. Wasting no more time, for Nuada could feel the leeching effect of the spell sapping at his strength, he leaped straight up, catching the brickwork with his fingers and scaling the wall in moments. Once on the rooftops, he set off in a fleet course over the buildings, his booted feet making no sound as he ran.

While Wink would be relieved to learn that Nuada no longer felt such a pressing need to get rid of the human, the prince knew that he would be spending more than a few sleepless nights reconciling that new realization. For a human to become fey, to become one of _his _people, was impossible, yet fate seemed to take a gleeful joy in showing him just how possible the _im_possible could be. With a touch of dark humor, he thought it would be a pleasant change if the "impossible" task of awakening the Army would be similarly unachievable.


	13. Chapter 12

_AN: Okay, I lied. _This _is the longest chapter yet. I promised my husband that I only had two more to go. I was, however, somewhat fuzzy on how long they'd be. The story will be concluded soon, with one more chapter and an epilogue. I'm wondering if I need to bump the rating up again, due to language used in this chapter. Those of you that know FFN better than me, please let me know. As always, minor edits will be forthcoming.  
_

* * *

Once he'd returned to Midnighrunner, he handed off the girl to Wink. The troll took her with an expression of concern, his murky amber eyes narrowing angrily at the dark swelling near her mouth. "What happened?" he asked.

"Humans," Nuada said shortly, setting the sack of market goods on one of the counters. Wink growled low in his chest and carried Orchid to the corner, where a great pile of bedding scrounged from the rooms above had been formed into a rough nestlike shape. Nuada had never looked closely at it before, but noticed now that there was a smaller hollow between the larger one and the firepit. Wink laid her into that spot and the prince added, "Have a care for her head."

Wink nodded and turned her onto her side, parting her hair with his good hand to find the swellings underneath. "The humans?" he asked, his words smoldering like the embers of the firepit.

"Dead," Nuada replied. Strangely, his hands craved the feel of his sword hilt again and he folded his arms over his chest instead. "I had just left the troll market and found them upon her," he cast a scowl at the still form. "That girl attracts trouble with more constancy than a curse."

The troll shrugged, his strong shoulders rising and falling once, "It is the way of children, my prince." He carefully picked the strap of the satchel up and slid it out from under her, setting the bag aside. Wink moved another pillow under her shoulders, holding up her head gently as he did so.

Nuada watched him for a long moment as the troll arranged the limp limbs into a better form for rest. Head injuries were nothing new to him, though they were something he had seen with far greater frequency during the wars. Human mockeries of the great hammers that they saw in fey hands were vastly inferior to the trolls' favored weapons, yet still capable of cracking an unwary head. He had watched trusted comrades die in the healers' pavilions without ever regaining their senses, slipping into an unwakeable sleep that eventually stole both breath and life. Awakening one injured in such a way was only the first battle for the fey's life; keeping that person awake long enough for the body to begin to recover was the next.

Wink knew this as well as Nuada, and the troll settled into the larger hollow to begin his vigil. Were it a cut or some other rending of the body, the prince could use his flesh-shaping talent to seal the injury before wound-fever set in. However, broken bones and deep hurts beneath intact skin had always managed to confound that ability and render it next to useless. "Inform me when she wakens," he said.

His friend nodded, pushing the girl's hair away from her slack face. Nuada felt a need to remain, though could not for the life of him understand why. He turned away resolutely and left the kitchen area, determinedly stalking up the narrow stairs to the former office he'd claimed for his own. His weapons were cleaned and put away, and he stripped off his armor, his mood black as he replayed the slaughter in the alley over and over in his mind. The candle was left unlit as he brooded.

It was late that night before she awoke and it was the sound of retching that alerted him. He returned to the kitchen quickly, finding her curled on her side and Wink steadying her with a gentle hand as she fought the urge to vomit. Nuada felt a twinge of sympathy; he had taken heavy blows to the head before. The worst ones had always made him violently sick, which had only worsened the pain in his head. "_...wink..._" she moaned helplessly, one hand gripping the edge of the hearth so hard her fingers were white.

"_I'm here_," he rumbled, rubbing her back lightly. "_It will pass._"

"_...wh... what happened...?_"

"_The prince came upon you while you were being attacked by humans,_" Wink replied. "_He killed them and brought you home._"

She groaned and that hand left the hearth to cover her face. "_...is he mad at me?_" Nuada raised an eyebrow.

The troll shook his head, his bristles twitching all along his back. Though his neck and shoulders were still stiff with anger, his touch upon her remained light. "_No, he's not._"

"_'m sorry..._" she mumbled, curling even more tightly into herself, still shaking with suppressed heaves. Her voice was slightly stronger as she added, "_...ran so they wouldn't follow me here._"

"_You ran far_," he agreed. "_Though the troll market may not have been the wisest choice_."

"_...thought... there might be... 'nother lamia._"

Despite the livid heat in his eyes, Wink chuckled, still petting her back as her retching gradually began to calm. "_You're a bloodthirsty little trickster_," he murmured, a distinct note of pride in the tone.

"_...learned from th' best..._"

"_Do you feel well enough to sit up?_" he asked, once the tremors had faded. The anger that held his muscles rigid began to trickle away with every moment she remained awake.

"_...no_," she said, "_I jus' wan' t'go back t' sleep..._"

Nuada took a step forward, opening his mouth to speak even as Wink beat him to it. "_Absolutely not_," the troll said and Nuada remained silent. "_You need to stay awake, at least for another day. When you can eat food and keep it down, you can sleep again._"

"_Just for a little while?_" she begged.

"_No_," Wink said, his tone soft but the words adamant. "_I will not let you sleep until I know that you will awaken from it._" He curled his mechanical hand around her shoulders, lifting them up the smallest fraction. "_Sit up, now_," he coaxed.

Though she bit her lip hard as he helped her upright, she made no other protest. Wink took her chin in his good hand, his thumb and forefinger holding it gently as he tilted her face up to him. The light from the fire hit her face and she winced, but held still so Wink could examine her eyes. "_Better than before,_" he said. "_Can you look around without moving your head?_"

She did so, rolling her eyes around the room. They widened suddenly when they passed over Nuada, and Wink glanced back to see the prince standing there. "Thank you, your Highness," she whispered, switching from Troll to human. "I'm sorry."

He nodded solemnly in acknowledgment of her first statement. The second, he dismissed with a graceful motion of his hand. Wink was correct about one thing - children were prone to ill fortune whether they courted it or not. He could not fully blame her for what had happened, and since their location was still secure and no real harm had been done otherwise, it was of small importance. The incident would delay further reconnaissance of Blackwood's while she healed, but he had planned for her to begin her new lessons in manner and bearing in any regard, so the delay was likely inevitable.

His thoughts turned to the sallow human, and what troubles that might bring their way. "Until our business here is concluded," he said slowly, "you will not venture outside unless it is with one of us." In a city so large, it was unlikely the cowardly human would ever be in the same area as they were, but long and painful experience had taught him never to underestimate the gleeful sadism of random chance.

Disappointment shadowed her eyes but she bowed her head and nodded, "Yes, Sire."

* * *

Nothing in his life had ever been so terrifying as telling Ironman that his brother was dead. Adrian was sure their set leader would kill the messenger, especially since that messenger had run like a little girl. He didn't want to tell Ironman, and he didn't want to _not _tell Ironman. What could be worse than never knowing a loved one's true fate? And, though Adrian didn't want to admit this to himself, a part of him was convinced that if he'd tried to vanish, Ironman would come after him and find him... and once he found him, he'd hurt Adrian for a long time before, and if, he killed him.

Strangely, where Del would have been impulsive and prone to temper, Ironman went utterly calm, as if a great freeze was solidifying a deep, dark lake from the bottom up. The Crip assassin had asked him questions in a level tone, probing every last scrap of information out of Adrian about the confrontation by the bridge. Adrian was almost beginning to relax, as his answers seemed to satisfy the stone that was taking the place of his friend, when Ironman reached out like a striking snake and caught the younger boy by the throat. He dragged him forward, his blunt fingertips digging bruises into Adrian's neck on either side of his windpipe. "You ran when your cousins were in danger," Ironman said softly. Those fingers dug in deeper, putting more pressure on Adrian's trachea. "If not for the info you brought back, they'd need a dentist to identify you in the morning."

"Cuzz..." Adrian gasped out.

"Don't dirty that word with your mouth," Ironman said flatly. "You wanna be family, you _be _family, you don't make the sounds and then go limp when they need you. I want those fucking Bloods now. I want to find the motherfucker that killed Del, and I want to cut him up a piece at a time. Now, you're supposed to be smart - figure out how to find them." He let go of Adrian, and the boy collapsed to his knees, gagging for air. Adrian nodded, too afraid not to.

Why had he ever thought being in a gang would end his troubles?

Adrian wasn't sure where to begin, but if he didn't start somewhere, Ironman was going to kill him. He went over in his mind where he'd met her, and the path of her flight. It didn't really make sense to him; a girl by herself in a new city would stick close to home, wouldn't she? Especially with the tensions between the Crips and the Bloods - she'd be insane to go wandering off away from her set. Adrian wasn't entirely convinced that she was in a gang, but the guy in red and black that had popped out of thin air... He had looked way too strange, not at all like any of the Bloods Adrian had seen, all three of them. But he wore the colors and he killed Del and Jerko, and right now, it didn't look like Ironman cared whether or not the guy was in a rival gang, as long as he got to kill him.

He thought next of where he'd seen Bloods, and where those places were in relation to Orchid's wandering and where she'd run. No real pattern seemed to emerge, and it frustrated him, until a flash of insight had dropped his mouth open. What if she_ hadn't_ been running to her gang? But why not? She was smaller and weaker than Del, and had to have known that she was going to get seriously hurt or killed if he caught her.

_She was leading us away_, he realized.

Taking that as a possible starting point, he began to work backwards from the bridge. Back from Green Avenue, back to McGolrick park, back along Nassau Street, back to the Sabrett's hot dog vendor... and that's where he had to stop, since that was where he'd first seen her. The hot dog cart had to be the closest point in her flight to where they were holed up.

The Blood that he'd killed to prove himself to Ironman had been dumped in an alley only a few blocks away.

"Ironman," he said slowly. "I think I know where we can start looking."

* * *

"Be still," Nuada said irritably.

"It tickles," Orchid whined.

He shot her a warning glare, but since her eyes were closed, she couldn't see it. "If you continue to move, I will have to begin this all over again."

"I'd rather you just go back to beating me up," she said, a touch of sullenness at her mouth.

"Have faith that it is still an option for the future," he replied. "Now be still!"

The scowl fully manifested, but it didn't matter much; he wasn't working on her lips just yet. Nuada cast a sideways look at Wink, who was watching the two of them with barely-contained mirth. _Not one word_, he said with his eyes. The troll nodded, grinning broadly and Nuada turned his attention back to the task at hand. A tiny brush was held between the long fingers of one hand, while one of the ekek's paint pots rested in his other. One of Orchid's eyes was shadowed in dark bronze with touches of gold and amber to suggest a more graceful arch of eyebrow than she'd been born with. The other was only half-done, and as he tried to brush more color into place, she flinched again.

"I would be finished now if you would cease moving," he said, waiting for her eyelid to relax once more before setting the brush to skin again. He had originally given the kit to her and told her to use it, but she'd stared at the cosmetics with a look of complete incomprehension. Nuada had realized she didn't have the first idea what the paints were, or what they were meant for. Wink, he knew for a fact, certainly did not, and with a heavy reluctance, he had done it for her.

Orchid sat on the abandoned bar, her face turned up towards the prince as he worked. Her hair had already been washed and combed, despite the pain of the tangles, and wound into a simple braid that left her face easily visible. He had already applied the soft powders to even her skin tone and lighten it; among humans, whiter skin was more prized among the upper levels of society. A slightly darker powder was blended under her cheekbones and along her jaw, refining those lines as well. She squirmed in place again and he cleared his throat warningly. "Where did you learn all this, anyway?" she asked.

"I said be still," he replied, stroking another arch of amber under her eyebrow.

"Is this something all princes learn to do?"

He closed his eyes briefly as Wink choked down a laugh. The troll was having entirely too much fun at Nuada's expense. "No," he said frostily, sending another warning look to Wink before finishing the shading of her eyelid. He set the bronze shadow back into the basket and picked out another vial of paint in a... he wasn't sure what to call the color, but it vaguely resembled a shade of coral. Switching to a clean brush, he dipped it into the paint and turned back to Orchid, wondering just what miracle, if any, could be done about the shape of her mouth.

"Can I open my eyes now?"

"No," he said, though he was done with her eyes. "I will say this once more only. Be. Still."

She grinned suddenly and he withdrew the brush with a muttered oath. "Tell me how you learned this and I will."

Nuada frowned. "Vassals do not bargain with their prince," he said.

"They do if they've got something the prince wants," she replied, still grinning up at him with her eyes closed.

Nuada's eyebrows drew together in minor frustration; Wink was a bad influence on her. Wink swallowed a snicker and Nuada glared at him once more, though the annoyance ran no further than the surface of his mood. "I will not engage in barter with an adolescent who barely knows aught of anything," he said, trying again to paint.

"Please?" she asked and he withdrew the brush again, blowing a breath out from between his teeth. "I promise, I'll sit still. I won't even breathe."

"That is a tempting offer," he mused, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement. It really did not cost him anything, save a bit of pride, to explain, and the sooner this was over, the better it would be for him. He did not believe Wink's self-control would hold against the troll's laughter for much longer. "Very well. I learned this from my sister."

"Why did your sister teach you to put on makeup?"

It was one of those questions very few males ever expected, or wanted, to answer. He sighed, but the girl was holding still as she'd promised. He leaned forward to brush the warm color across her lips, changing the natural shade to one somewhat pinker. "Only once will I say this, and both of you are sworn to silence forever after. Am I understood?"

"Mhm," she said, not daring to move. Wink nodded, rubbing his face with his good hand. It was poor camouflage for the amused grin that split his craggy features.

"She's my twin," he said. "When we were young, and she was first learning about such fripperies as gowns and jewelry and hairstyles, she would practice new colors of skinpaint on me to see how they might look on her."

Orchid's throat tensed and her lips quivered, keeping still with what had to be pure adolescent obstinance. A low choking sound came from Wink and Nuada glanced over to see the troll walking briskly into the kitchen. The following sounds of a chisel against stone did very little to mask the strangled laughter.

Nuada set his embarrassment aside easily; doing anything with his twin, even if he risked being suspected a homophile, was well worth the brightness of Nuala's smile and the musical sound of her voice. When she painted his face, Nuala always sat near enough and leaned close enough that he could smell the dainty perfume she used, and under that, the subtle lavender of her soap. Underneath and entwined with both, was the exquisite spice of her own skin. Letting his twin experiment on him with her cosmetics was a small price to pay to breathe that scent for long stretches of time.

To this day, he needed only to close his eyes and concentrate, and he could once again feel the warmth of the sun shining through the silken curtains of her bedroom and the whisper-soft stroke of the brushes coupled with the caress of her breath against his skin. For that scent and her smile, he would gladly move mountains with his bare hands.

Not that he ever allowed anyone to see him afterwards without thoroughly scrubbing his face clean, of course.

Studying Nuala's graceful motions as she used various brushes and powders on him had also made him curious about painting other things. With more appropriate materials, he'd tried his hand at crafting visions from colors as well. His first few attempts at painting his sister's portrait from memory had been... well... unmentionable. Nuada had turned his attention to landscapes, and after a great deal of trial and error, began to create images on silk that managed to resemble their inspiration. Though it had been many centuries since he'd last painted anything, he imagined it would be rather like picking up a familiar sword again.

Scrutinizing his work and the subtle changes wrought on the human's face, it occurred to Nuada that once the Army was awakened, he would have the leisure to take up his hobby once more. "We're done here," he said, straightening and putting the brush and pot away. "Do not, under any circumstances, touch your eyes or face. The paints will set in time and appear to be your natural coloring; that includes any smudges you make."

Orchid blinked her eyes open and grimaced. She reached up automatically to rub one eye and he gave her a warning look. "It itches," she said.

"Then blink," he replied. "The irritation will pass soon enough."

She twisted around to look at the shards of glass still edging the broken mirror, but couldn't get a good enough look. Instead she hopped off the bar onto the other side and picked up a piece from the floor. "Wow!" she breathed. "Is that me?"

The metallic bronze that would soon fade to a more natural tan was brushed above each eye and suggested a larger, more rounded orb than was truly there. Thin streaks of amber and gold under her eyebrows gave a hint of a more pronounced arch, while the subtle shadowing of her cheeks and jaw made the planes of her face softer. The entire impression was a careful subtraction of two, perhaps three years from her true age. The illusion would be more complete once she began walking and speaking as he'd instructed her to do. He needed the humans to immediately see her not only as harmless, but perhaps be willing to indulge a child's curiosity in a strange place, where they were like as not to do the same for an adolescent.

Nuada brushed pigments off his fingers. "Not entirely," he said. "It is an illusion created by light and color, though a minor one. There is only so much that skinpaints will accomplish, after all. No amount of cosmetics will ever make Wink look like an Elven maid," he added, a sly smile curving his dark lips.

"Ew," she said with a laugh, putting down the glass. "Would you be insulted if I said that you're really, really good at this?"

He wasn't certain of his answer right away, replying instead, "You had best change now, we will be leaving soon."

She reached up to her eye again and visibly remembered to put her hand back down without touching. A sudden worried look crossed her face and she said, "How am I going to put on those clothes without smearing everything?"

"Carefully, I would imagine," Nuada said lightly. He had not wanted to risk spilling the pigments onto the clothes she would be wearing to Blackwood's, despite how revolting he'd found them to be. She groaned and went to fetch her espionage clothing from the kitchen.

* * *

Manhattan-based Blackwood's in daylight was only a slightly more impressive structure than it was at night, and Nuada had had to literally point it out to his shorter companion. Only four stories tall, the stone building was nearly swallowed by the taller glass and steel ones around it. It was still midmorning, and the coolness of the previous evening had faded, helped by the heat and exhaust of car engines. They stood at the end of the block opposite Blackwood's, getting hardly a glance from passersby that shuffled up and down the sidewalks. Occasionally one of them would move a pace or two to avoid a human coming too close, and the other would move with the first to keep the distance between them narrow. Nuada had warned her that once a glamour was broken, the human would be able to see them until he recast the spell. She took it seriously and stayed very close to him so that the glamour covered her too, yet was careful not to accidentally bump into him and break the spell herself.

"Do you recall everything I have told you to do?" he asked. She nodded, the intent concentration on her face at odds with the rest of her. Wink had found - and since this was using the word as Orchid often used it, that meant a store somewhere had a very large hole in it - a pink T-shirt with a garish catlike face on the front drawn in many pastel shades of glitter. Darker pink jeans were edged at the hip and back pockets with more glitter, and bright white tennis shoes with metallic pink insets encased her feet. Her normal clothes were often too large for her or hung badly, hiding her true shape. The clothes Wink had stolen were nearly a perfect fit, and highlighted her slight frame, aiding the skinpaints in making her appear more like a girl of ten winters than an adolescent of fourteen. A few strands of hair had escaped the braid and drifted into her face with the false winds of traffic, and she blew them back away. They both watched the people passing in front of Blackwood's, especially the ones that turned to enter the auction house.

"That one?" she asked, nodding instead of pointing.

He shook his head, "No, I have seen her there twice before; she frequents that place too often." They were looking for a human female, one old enough to be a mother, who bore a passing resemblance to Orchid. The sun crept higher into the sky as they watched.

At last he spotted one, a plump matron exited a taxi cab in front of the auction house. The sun hit her hair, perhaps a touch darker than Orchid's, but otherwise the same color, and the shape of her nose was the same. She dug into a metallic gold crocodile skin purse to pay the fare. "That one," he said. "Go now."

She left the area of his glamour and trotted away, slipping around pedestrians until she was some feet behind the woman. It appeared, as the taxi pulled away, that she'd gotten out after the woman. Orchid followed her at a careful distance, not too far, nor so near as to engender suspicion from the oblivious rich woman, glancing around with a carefully schooled expression of affected boredom. Nuada had seen many such expressions on the faces of people visiting this place and it had been the single most difficult thing for the girl to master.

The doorman touched the brim of his cap as the woman approached, bowing slightly and opening the door for her. Orchid walked right in behind her, and the doorman let her. Nuada narrowed his eyes and waited; the next part was entirely out of his hands now. If the girl wanted to prove herself to the fey, this was her chance.

* * *

Within the auction house, the wood floors were polished to a mirror sheen, their surfaces protected with expensive runners of blue and gray carpeting. Galleries held paintings, old rugs, antiques and ancient furniture from countless human craftsman in countless eras of history. Orchid wandered behind the rich woman, looking around like any child bored with the surroundings, but keeping one eye on the woman as they walked. Following the prince's instructions, she let her attention roam freely, even walking to look at other things while the woman remained focused on art. Several times the woman stopped before a painting and leaned close to inspect the inscription plate before making a few notes in a small black planner. They made a slow circuit around the galleries, working back towards the front door. The woman's preference seemed to be for oil paintings of boats and ships, which Orchid didn't understand. Yeah, they were nice, but come on. How many different boats did humans need to paint?

She followed the woman around until something did, truly, catch her eye: a statue of a large, bulbous figure resting on one knee upon a low dais in a side gallery. Orchid went into that room, away from the rich woman, staring at the sculpture. Bare of hand and foot, the statue was easily ten feet tall and had a long, rounded nose with a bare head and huge semi-circular ears. It had been sculpted wearing a set of frayed overalls, with one strap fallen from the shoulder nearly hidden under the ear. The placquard read, _Troll Statue, Fløyen Mountain, Bergen, Norway. 128,000._

She wrinkled her nose at the statue. It looked nothing like Wink. Maybe it was of one of the lesser troll races. Orchid almost reached out to touch the stone, to see if it was true stone, then snatched her hand back and turned to look for the rich woman. She left the troll statue gallery and looked around, finding no sign of her.

A look of budding panic began to grow in her face and she went through the galleries again, searching for the woman. A brief glance - only a brief one - through the front window saw the woman hailing another cab. Orchid suppressed a grin as she kept "searching" for her. After several minutes of increasingly frantic looking, and some curious looks from other patrons and a security guard, Orchid began to cry and call out, "Mom!" as she ran from one gallery to the next, tensing her throat to pitch her voice slightly higher as the prince had taught her. "Mom, where are you?"

The dark-complected security guard that had noticed her searching moved quickly to intercept her, "Whoa, now, little girl. What's going on here?"

"My mom," she sobbed, looking around the auction house. "I went to look at a statue and now I can't find her. Mom!"

He shushed her, glancing quickly at the patrons who were looking at the girl with varying expressions of sympathy and annoyance. Blackwood's, like many fine establishments, prided themselves on discretion and the comfort of its customers. A crying child helped neither and he gently drew her with him to walk to the security office. "All right, we can try to page her, I think," he said. "Just calm down. What's your name?"

"M-michelle," Orchid replied, sniffling and rubbing one eye. She glanced at it to make sure the skinpaints hadn't come off and rubbed the moisture away on the garish jeans.

"Okay, Michelle," the guard said as they reached the door and he opened it for her. "I'm Travis. Come on inside, and we'll try to find her on the cameras." The door shut with barely a sound as they stepped from a genteel, tasteful museum to a smoothly furnished room crowded with technology. Against one wall, covering it nearly from one corner to the other, were rows upon rows of color monitors, each one showing a different gallery or passage within the auction house. She counted the rows quickly, four of them covered the wall from the gray veneered desk to the ceiling. Another guard, his dark blond hair going gray and white, looked up in surprise from some papers spread out on the desk and Travis shrugged at him.

"Trav, what the hell is going on?"

"Kid's lost," he said. "She started crying, so I brought her in here to see if we could find her mother on the cameras."

The other guard didn't look happy. "Trav-"

"I got a neice her age," Travis said. "And you've got a granddaughter that's older. Don't even tell me you'd leave her out there by herself."

"No," the older man said defensively. The brass nametag over the left breast pocket of his gray shirt read _Harold Sampson, Day Supervisor_. "But you could have walked around with her, or called the police or something. We don't deal with lost children."

"Sometimes, Harry, you're a jerk," Travis said affably. "Call the police? Here? Am I hearing that right? We got a major show coming up in September and you think it's a good idea to scare away customers?"

Harold looked very uncomfortable at the mention of the September show. "There's procedures to follow," he began.

"I know," Travis said. "But I gotta get back to patrol, and you're watching the cameras anyway, so why not do this? It'll be faster and a lot more discreet than me taking her around while she's crying for her mother." The older guard looked down with a sigh of resignation and Travis settled himself down on one knee in front of Orchid. ""What's your mommy's name?" he asked

On cue, the tears burst out again and she cried harder. Harold looked startled. "She got remarried and changed it," Orchid sobbed. "She hates me and she left me here on purpose! I want my daddy!"

Travis, looking more perturbed the louder she got, guided her to the chair next to Harold. "Ok, ok," he said soothingly. "We can call him to come get you, then. What's his name?"

"Wi- William," she said in a voice that shook with crocodile tears. "He, uh, works with stone."

"A stonemason, eh?" Travis smiled. "My grandfather was a mason."

"My daddy's better," she said confidently. No human, with their strange deafness to stone, could ever coax it into shapes like Wink could.

Travis grinned, "Maybe. Maybe not. My grandfather cut most of the blocks for this building we're in right now. I wasn't born yet, but I always thought that it was pretty exciting work. Dangerous, but exciting. Does your daddy ever show you what he does?"

Orchid nodded, the hysterics calming. "He t-taught me how to use a hammer, too."

"How to fix things?"

"No, mostly how to break them," she said.

The guard chuckled. "Well, if you prefer your daddy pick you up, that's fine with us. What's his phone number?"

Cue the next flood of tears. She burst out wailing again and Harold began to look helplessly frustrated. "I don't know," she cried, "he moved to Washington after the divorce but I couldn't go with him. I want to go home!"

"Please, kid, relax," Harold said as he stood. "Travis, I'm going to go ask Mr. Bauer about this. See if you can rewind some feeds and get a look at the mother. Mr. Bauer might recognize her."

She looked up at the monitors, noting there were about three different heights used for the cameras, and it looked as though most of them were in corners. She pointed to one row. "We went into those rooms," she said, a hitching in the words from the tears.

Travis glanced up and nodded, "Sure thing, Harry. I'll stay here with her and see what we can find."

The desk before them had gray terminals on it with switches and dials. Travis began to fiddle with them, glancing up to see which feeds were obeying the unfamiliar controls. Orchid watched the screens, counting three shifts of images for each one, about every two seconds. Four rows of six cameras, three views each... she chewed on her lip in concentration and added them all up to seventy two cameras inside the auction house, each with a two-second cycle to the recording.

"Oh, damn it," Travis said as a strange whirring sounded underneath the desk. He slid out of the chair and got on his hands and knees to peer underneath. She bent over and looked too. Under the desk was a snaky tangle of thick black wires, each one with a small white tag somewhere on its length. Behind those were computer towers and Travis pressed a button on one to shut it down.

"Can I have something to draw on?" she asked.

He pushed the same button to turn the contraption back on. "Sure," he said. "Rebooting'll take a little while anyway." Travis stood up and looked around the room, then leaned over to pinch a few sheets of mint-green paper from a larger stack of mailers on a shelf beside the desk. He gave them to her, with the pen out of his breast pocket. "Here you go," he said, turning over the flyers for the upcoming show so that the blank sides were up before turning his attention back to the monitors and fiddling with the dials again.

She gave him a tremulous smile. "Thanks," she said, clicking the pen and setting it to the paper. Trollmarks were simple and rough, and blended into stone so that anyone that didn't know what the glyphs looked like would never notice them. Wink had showed them to her in the stones of the hearth, both the one in San Francisco and the one here, and spent long evenings reading to her the stories he had carved into the rock. The pen was a poor substitute for a good chisel, but it flew over the paper as the rough markings bloomed across the green sheet. Each cluster was simple notations of the cameras and their heights and angles, all written in a language that no human would ever be able to decipher.

"Aha!" Travis said and she glanced up quickly, nearly done with her notes. "There you are, and I think that's your mom there, isn't it?" he asked, pointing to the fat woman with the gilded crocodile purse. Orchid nodded and he grinned. "All right. I don't recognize her, but I know Mr. Bauer will. Soon as Harry brings him back, he'll be able to tell us how to contact her."

"I don't want to go home with her," Orchid said sullenly. She scratched the last trollmarks onto the bottom of the page angrily. "She has a new husband and new kids and she doesn't want me around."

"Michelle," Travis said reasonably. "It's either this, or we have to call the police. Either way, you'll end up back there." His eyes dropped down to the paper and he frowned with confusion. "What kind of drawing is that?"

She looked down at the angular, irregular trollmarks covering the page. "It a code that Daddy and I use when we write to each other," she said. "So Mom doesn't know what we're writing about."

"A code, huh?" he said. "What does it say?"

_In the prince's hands, it would say how to get that thing he wants to kill humans_, she thought. Instead, she pointed at one section describing how many cameras and how many stones high they were placed. "This part here, says that Mom looks fat in her new pants." Travis laughed and she pointed at another. "This one says I miss him and I want to go live with him, and this part here..." she circled a group of glyphs near the bottom, describing the two-second cycle of the cameras. "This part says, I love you Daddy."

Travis patted her shoulder sympathetically. "Divorces aren't ever easy," he said, "but I'm sure your mom and dad love you very much."

Orchid shrugged a little and folded the paper, stuffing it into her pocket. "Can I go to the bathroom please?"

"Uh..." he looked up at the cameras, one of them stilled on the image of her "mother" bending to inspect a painting more closely. Orchid was a blurred pink shape behind her. "Mr. Bauer should be here soon - can it wait?"

"Huh-uh" she said, squirming in the chair. "I had a big soda earlier and I really gotta go!"

"All right," he agreed, the last part of the prince's plan falling into place. "But we need to hurry; Mr. Bauer doesn't like to waste his time."

He took her back out to the main show area, passing the troll statue gallery to find a pale grey door at the end of the hall. A discreet female silhouette on a blue circle was the only indication what was behind the door and he pushed it open for her. "Make it quick," he reminded her.

"I promise," Orchid grinned at him. The door swung shut slowly, held by a pneumatic piston to guarantee that something so crude as the sound of a bathroom door closing would disturb the patrons who were willing and eager to spend money at Blackwood's. The interior of the bathroom was much fancier than the restrooms at fast-food restaurants. Pale turquoise carpeting muffled the footsteps in a powder area lit by crystal-shaded lamps in silver holders on the walls. The wallpaper was a soothing teal, with thread-fine stripes of silver and deep blue throughout. A dark walnut chaise lounge upholstered in royal blue with fanlike patterns that matched the carpet and the silver of the wallpaper was set against the back wall, and the mirror before it was a huge, flawless beveled half-circle over the dove-colored sinks. A silvered dish held tiny blue and green soaps molded into disks, each meant for one use. A small stack of towels that matched the soaps rested nearby.

_Jeez_, she thought. _This place is fancier than most people's homes and they pee here_. Living in a sewer seemed more honest, somehow, and she missed San Franscisco. She passed through the powder room and into the restroom area, skipping the teal-painted stalls to go to the farthest wall tiled in white, grey and more turquoise like the floor.

The window swung open at a touch and she jumped up to catch the sill, squirming herself out. It was on the second floor, but the stonework seemed to welcome her fingers as she squirreled down the side of the building, using a drainpipe and toeholds to help herself down. Once on the ground, she edged along the wall underneath one of the cameras, then sprinted to the fence and squeezed through it, moving quickly to put distance between herself and the auction house. She took extra care to avoid any lookers from Blackwood's as she made her way back to Nuada.

"Well?" he said expectantly.

She pulled out the green paper and unfolded it for him. "Lots of cameras, Sire," she said with respect. "They have a system that monitors and records, and the monitors switch every couple of seconds, but the cameras don't move side to side or anything like that."

His eyes ran over the trollmarks, the white brows arching in surprise at the glyphs. Was there anything of troll life that Wink had not taught the girl? It wasn't a perfect description - she was a child after all - but it gave him a good idea where to take the most care in infiltrating the defenses of the auction house. Nuada nodded, smiling a little with approval. "Useful, very useful indeed." She grinned, her expression brightening at the praise. "Come. I'll return later tonight to see the inside for myself." He turned the paper over and his eyes widened with surprise again.

On the reverse side was an embossed border of inkjet Celtic knotwork that bound the legend _Treasures of pre-Christian Europe_ above a fancily lettered _September 26, 2008_ and a time notation of 6:00 in the evening. Below the event's start time was the phone number and address of Blackwood's. _By invitation only_, scolded the last line across the bottom.

Now he knew exactly when and where to find the crown piece. He smiled again more widely, an infinitely satisfied sense of victory flooding him and washing away the clinging doubts about the success of his mission. He turned and headed back the way they had come, Orchid walking briskly to keep within the area of his glamour. It was a long ways back across the Brooklyn Bridge to their sanctuary and they traveled it in silence, with Nuada planning and replanning the entrance to the auction house and how he would sneak the piece out from under the human's very noses on a night of pretentious reverence, and Orchid's long habit of trying not to disturb the prince. The distance between them lengthened somewhat, with the prince lost in contemplation and Orchid looking around, still trying to memorize the new sights of their temporary home.

As they left the centerline pedestrian walkway of the bridge and passed the alley where humans had chased her down only two weeks earlier, she asked him, "Why do they call it Green Avenue?"

"What?" he said, the question splintering apart an imagined exchange between himself and his father, once he had gotten the crown piece. It had not been going well.

She pointed to the street and the buildings flanking it in the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge. "This road... it's called Green Avenue, but there's nothing green here. Why do they call it that?"

"Because humans are fools," he said with a sneer. They passed a small sticklike tree that was confined within a steel cage set into a tiny square opening in the concrete. The desiccated leaves of the tree were in varying shades of yellow and brown, and he shuddered a little at the sickness he could feel within it. "They take away a living thing's space to breathe and grow and thrive, and then wonder why it withers despite the chemicals fed to it."

Orchid nodded, "Yeah... humans suck." It was a rude phrase, made ruder by his understanding of the colloquial, but he couldn't disagree with it. She looked around at the crumbling brick buildings, the businesses that crowded together to compete for customers, and the cracked and raised sections of concrete in the sidewalk. "What would this place look like with trees that weren't penned up?" she wondered out loud.

It was an interesting thought. He looked up, briefly envisioning a wash of green growth over the human world. "Far better than it does now," he said, imagining massive trees growing in the middle of downtown and smiling at the mental picture of humans fleeing from the onslaught of flowers in terror. Now that he thought of it, there was a way to quickly reclaim the world from human influence, but that power was not his. "Far, far better than it does now," he repeated, a sudden ache piercing him for the living growth of the forests.

"Is that what home looks like?"

"Home?"

"Where you and Wink are from," she said. "Are there lots of trees there?"

The ache deepened and he pushed it away with an effort. "There used to be," Nuada replied. "Once there were many great sages of the forest that stood taller than the stars, sheltering within their arms a thousand birds singing a thousand songs. Most of them have withered, or been cut down for human industry, though some corners of our world remain pristine. There are yet a few spots of Elfland that humans have not, and by my last breath, _will _not defile with their "progress"."

Her curiosity quieted under the forceful words. "Same here," she said softly, saying nothing more for the rest of way.

* * *

deMarius had been sent to their allies, the Pure Nation 13, to get help. Pure Nation hated Bloods almost as much as the Crips, and their real arch-nemesis, the Lo-Riders, were loosely allied to the Bloods, so it was a win-win arrangement for them too. Ironman's set wasn't a very large one, and it was smaller now by two. Adrian wasn't sure why he didn't send a messenger to another Crip set, but wasn't about to ask. Ironman still had that same terrifying calm about him. When deMarius had come back with ten PN-13's behind him, Ironman had laid out the plan in simple terms: find the girl, follow her back to her set, kill everyone. Every gang member, including him, was to take a section and scope it, looking for a white girl with brown hair and eyes, and a tall white man in Blood colors. Once their prey had been sighted, they would regroup and decide on their attack.

With the PN-13's, that gave Ironman a considerable force of eighteen. The rest of his own gang was itching for blood, and all of them cast dangerous glares Adrian's way. Running for his life had evidently the wrong choice to make. Even Shelly seemed to hate him. She'd begged Ironman for the chance to help avenge Del, and though Adrian thought that their girls didn't get involved in fights, the leader had just nodded. Adrian just wanted to get out of this situation before it got any worse, but Ironman, maybe guessing that was on Adrian's mind, looked right at him and the younger boy froze, caught in the intensity of that stare. "You're coming along," he said. "And if you don't manage to kill one of those Bloods, I'll kill you."

For several days, Crips lurked in the area between Adrian's kill and the hot dog vendor. Under Ironman's stern orders, they covered or left off their tags, doing their best not to be spotted by their rivals. Adrian was the only one not allowed to hide, and not allowed to scout by himself; Ironman kept him close by at all times. The older gangster didn't trade shifts with anyone to get food or rest, watching the streets around them from his car with the same brittle stare that had come into being when Del had died. Adrian sometimes dropped off in a doze, but never for long before Ironman woke him with a hard punch to the arm or shoulder. "Watch!" he'd hiss angrily, turning his own attention back to the neighborhood.

Adrian rubbed his shoulder and sulked. There weren't many ways out that he could see here. Being in a gang was losing its appeal rapidly, and his eyes dropped down to the tattoo on the web of flesh between his thumb and forefinger. It had been done with a homemade tattoo gun by deMarius, and Adrian knew he couldn't afford the fancy laser surgery to get rid of it. He wondered if he was brave enough to peel the skin off and lose it that way. Assuming he could get out of the gang with his life intact, that is.

He wondered briefly what kind of trouble he'd be in if he joined that Blood gang Orchid belonged to. Maybe she'd talk to him more then, if she didn't already have a boyfriend. Or maybe they'd just kill him on sight, since he was a Crip, even if he was a despised one right now. Adrian had no faith whatsoever that his set would protect him at all, and wearing the tags openly was one of only two reasons they didn't beat the crud out of him on a daily basis. Wearing tags openly also meant rival gangs knew exactly who to kill. He kept back a groan of hopelessness at the untenable situation. Was there any way out?

"Uh, Ironman," he began, his stomach tensing for another punch, but the black man didn't move. "I'm about to chew my own arm off here; mind if I go get something to eat?" That chiseled head turned slowly, dark brown eyes boring into him and he swallowed hard. "I know you haven't eaten in a long time either," he added. "I'll get something for both of us, okay?" Almost as if one tiny ally in the world had to make itself known, his stomach growled audibly. Ironman's eyes flicked downwards, then back up. His face was still that icy calm that was really beginning to freak Adrian out and he nodded once. He didn't tell Adrian to hurry back; he didn't need to.

Adrian got out of the car, a late-model Ford sedan with dark burgundy paint patched by brick-red primer. He shut the door, wincing as the door slammed despite his attempt to shut it quietly. He looked up and down the street, stretching his stiff legs while he tried to decide what he wanted. Scratch that. While he tried to decide what _Ironman _might want. It was a paltry effort, but it might begin the long trek to getting back on the man's good side.

He was considering going to a Greek deli two blocks down, when a flash of pink caught his attention. It was almost painfully bright against the drab colors of the buildings. Some girl was walking down the street by herself, to all appearances without a care in the world. She turned her face to look up at something and he stiffened with shock - he knew that profile!

Damn it all to hell. Damn _him _all to hell. Why did he have to be right? Why did she have to go wandering alone again? What was the right thing to do?

The concrete jungle was the same as the green one: _survival at any cost_. Adrian frowned, wondering if it was a cost he could live with, then realized that if he didn't live, the cost was a moot point anyway. His hand hesitated as it came up, then finally tapped on the passenger's side window. The glass slid downwards with a mechanical whirr and Adrian took a deep breath as Ironman looked at him again. "I saw her," he said, the words dragging painfully out of his chest.

The stone broke and animated as Ironman's eyes widened. He got out of the car quickly, turning to look in the same direction Adrian pointed. The girl in pink was just vanishing beyond a corner. The black man broke into a run, dashing to the end of the block where they'd lost sight of her, and Adrian followed, already hating himself for being weak. Ironman peered around the edge of the building, watching the girl continue down the street, towards the alley where Adrian had LOC'd into the set only a month before. She passed the alley, then turned and ducked into a gap in a cyclone fence that bordered an empty lot.

Ironman followed, keeping to the opposite side of the street, watching all around him for spies. They drew even with the empty lot and she was still there, heading across without looking back. A screech of tires accompanying a blare of horns caught their attention briefly before they looked back, and Adrian's mouth fell open. She was gone.

"What the hell?" Adrian asked. Did she notice them and run while they looked away?

Ironman didn't answer, glowering at the lot. "Something ain't right," he muttered. "No dust kicked up, too far to get to the other side... Stay here," he said flatly, then went across the street to the lot and slipped through the same gap she'd used. The dirt was mostly packed, but had some loose sand on top of it and he found the fresh edges of her shoe treads easily. Another set of flat-soled prints, larger than hers, looked just as fresh. Ironman followed her tracks, losing them on the packed dirt, but picking up a partial one a few feet later. They seemed to lead into the center rear area of the lot and just stop.

Well, that was weird as hell. He followed the tracks anyway, keeping his eyes on the ground. They turned slightly, overlapping the larger ones on occasion, and then made a sharper turn into a straight line. He followed the second turn and something hit his shoulder hard.

Ironman flinched back, one hand going to his shoulder reflexively, but the impact was forgotten as the air before him seemed to flow and move like a mirage, parting to reveal a building that he'd just run smack into the corner of. He looked up at it with open shock. Where the hell had it come from? It was like watching a Romulan ship uncloak on Star Trek, almost exactly like Adrian had described the appearance of the bastard that murdered his brother...

It didn't matter. If a Blood could somehow hide himself in plain sight; maybe they could do the same to a building. He didn't have the first clue how, but the how was irrelevant. The fact that the building was hidden in the same way _proved _that this was the place they'd been looking for. Ironman scanned the building quickly, noticing the broken letters of the old rave. He remembered this place now; he'd even sprayed a few tags on the inside when he'd claimed his set's territory. The fuckers were hiding within _his _turf. No wonder they'd gotten so cocky.

Retreating from the rave, he went back to where Adrian was and grabbed a fistful of the T-shirt at his shoulder to drag the boy along with him back to the car. He remained silent, ignoring Adrian's questions and shoved him up against the passenger's side of the car. "Get in," he said shortly.

He took a cell phone from his pocket as he slid into the driver's seat and called deMarius, "Cuzz... call everyone in and get back home. I found the place and we're going in tonight."


	14. Chapter 13

_AN: Okay, epic battle scene here - at least I hope so. I had to keep track of dead crunchies on paper so I didn't miss any. And I know I keep saying this, but _this _is the longest chapter so far, nearly four times longer than most of the early chapters. I kept my promise to my husband, and also (hopefully) the one I made to all of you too, when I first began writing this. ;-)_

* * *

Orchid couldn't wait to tear off the eye-blinding pink shirt and glittery jeans. It was remarkable how quickly she divested herself of the gaudy clothes and came back out of the kitchen with more appropriate attire, which even Nuada preferred to the former. Grimy tattered sneakers peeked out from baggy pants with many cavernous pockets along each leg, and an oversized black t-shirt which had been torn down the back and discarded by some older- and larger - adolescent at some point in the past. Blue stylized letters spelled out Property of Starfleet Academy across the front. She tugged out the braid, shaking her hair loose into false waves created by being braided while still wet and tying it all back with a leftover length of leather thong. "Your Highness?" she asked.

"Yes?"

"How do I get this stuff off?" she asked, indicating her face with one hand.

Nuada quirked an eyebrow. "I thought you rather liked that effect," he said dryly. Four only knew why females liked skinpaints so much, but they did. Even Nuala, who never needed any artifice to enhance her beauty, adored the colors.

"I do," she said, blushing a little. "But it's not really my face."

For some reason, he approved of her attitude and smiled slightly. "In that case, you will have to make use of a substance that will no doubt seem wondrous and arcane to you."

"What's that?" she asked.

"Soap," he replied, pointing towards the bathroom.

She looked at his deadpan expression for a few seconds, then giggled and bowed briefly before heading down that hallway. He looked down at the green paper in his hands, turning it over and over to reread the date of the auction, and the notations for the cameras. So close... the crown was so close to being complete once more, and he could almost feel the smooth, cool metal in his hands as he placed it on his father's head again.

He smiled to himself, shaking his head at his own boldness. There were a hundred things to do before that happened again, not the least of which was explaining just why he wanted to war upon the humans so badly when one of his own vassals was human. Even to the prince, the contrast of those situations struck him as difficult to swallow. His smile faded, turning into a more sober expression. His father was as crafty a politician as he'd been a warrior; he might use the girl to argue for the continuation of his peace. That Nuada had allowed her to live with him and Wink for four years, and had accepted her into service, and by the Four had even killed to protect her... it was a dangerous weakness in his own resolve that his father wouldn't hesitate to exploit to maintain his dead truce.

The simplest solution to that problem was to forbid her to accompany them back to Elfland. However, Nuada thought there might be some contention from Wink on that matter. And, truth be told to oneself even if it tasted most unpleasant, he wasn't certain that dismissing Orchid sat well with _him _anymore either, and that, more than the puzzle of acquiring the crown piece or the inevitable confrontation with his father, was what baffled him. She's a human, he reminded himself, though the words that once rang true in his mind sounded somewhat hollow.

Wink thought of her as fey, and in a way, so did Nuada. He sighed heavily. If this was so difficult to explain to himself, it was going to be impossible to explain to Balor... or Nuala.

_Can you condemn her race to death? _Nuala's voice drifted through his mind, the sweet tones as fresh and pure as if she spoke into his ear.

Yes. Yes, he could. He had to, for his own people to survive. Humans were so numerous that it would take far too much time and effort to seek out and exterminate every last one, and the remnants would surely repopulate. Humans had a distressingly easy time of doing so. And when the population once more swelled to a degree that their hunger endangered the fey, the Army would drive them back again. It would be a lifelong task to maintain that balance of the humans' numbers against the fey's as it surged and ebbed, but he had long ago dedicated his life to it.

Neither Balor nor Nuala felt war was necessary; Nuada felt that only one was necessary. After that, after the humans had been thinned to manageable herds, his father and sister could content themselves with seeking out the humans that did not share the hunger of their species. He would not care. Every fey could have a human pet, if they wished, so long as the pets did not overthrow the masters.

_Humans suck_, Orchid had said. The growing frown relaxed again as Nuada imagined the entertaining look on Balor's face if he'd heard the uncouth term...

_And why not?_ he thought suddenly. A good warrior made use of every weapon in his possession. If his father proved to be too difficult to convince, what better blow could Nuada deliver to that unyielding belief than a human who agreed that warring upon her kind was necessary? Nuada could simply give her a prearranged signal to interrupt the council session and speak her mind; being a human and a child besides, her behavior would be startling but hardly punishable, and exactly the thing to put his father off-balance. Assuming, of course, that Nuada could trust the girl to be as dedicated in her condemnation of her race before the king as she had been to him and Wink.

Curiously, a part of him thought that she very well might, and his mood brightened considerably.

* * *

The kitchen seemed a lot smaller with the eight surviving Crips and ten PN-13's crowded around the table. Guns, chains, bats and other weapons of ranged and blunt destruction were laid out on the faded and peeling vinyl of the tabletop. Shelly reached out to pick up a .357 Magnum revolver that Del had always used and popped open the cylinder expertly to check how smoothly the parts worked together. Normally this gun held .38's, but for a special occasion like this, they'd broken out a box of .357 rounds for extra splatter. She loaded six bullets into the cylinder, wishing she had a speed-loader so that she wouldn't have to take a long break after emptying the gun to reload it.

"Shelly," Ironman said, "I want you, deMarius and Adrian to get in through the front door and take the stairs to the upper floor. It's all busted up, so be careful, but it overlooks the first floor. You three are gonna turn that place into a shooting gallery while the rest of us are kicking ass. Make sure you hit Bloods, not us."

She nodded briefly and snapped the cylinder shut. The gun was a heavy weight in the waistband of her low-rise jeans, but it was a righteous weight of vengeance. As if that sound were some kind of cue, the rest of the gang began to pick their preferred weapons from the armory of the kitchen table.

"You four," he said, nodding to a small group of PN-13's that took two lengths of chain, an oversized wrench and a Saturday Night Special, "you're gonna find the basement access behind the rave and get in that way. We coordinate and bust in at the same time, understand? Surprise is gonna keep us alive and cover deMarius, Shelly and Adrian when they go upstairs. The rest of you are going to split into groups and hit the front and back entrances at the same time."

"What about you?" Adrian asked after taking a Beretta semiautomatic that deMarius shoved into his hands. Everyone paused and looked at him. Yesterday he would have shrank from the hostile glares, but worrying about doing the right thing just didn't seem to matter any more since he was going to fuck it up anyway. "Where are you going in?"

Ironman set his hand on the kitchen counter, on top of a blue-lacquered _daisho _set. "Don't matter which group. I'm only going in for one person. I want the white guy that killed Del; any of you kills him before me, and I'm going to be one really pissed nigger, understand? Smoke the rest, but that one's mine." He looked around, seeing only nods of agreement and submission all around.

Adrian didn't miss the sullen look Shelly gave their leader. Evidently, his ex-not-girlfriend wanted to kill that guy just as badly as Ironman.

* * *

Orchid crunched on a hind leg of nekthel, catching a dried scrap of salty-sweet cave rat as it fell from the haunch. She sat cross-legged on one of the steel counters, watching anxiously while Wink finished attaching the stone head of her hammer to a new haft. The old wooden one had finally cracked after an especially vigorous disarm from the prince had sent it against a jutting corner of the bar a few days earlier. "_I should get you some rayskin straps to bind this_," he said. "_A better grip might help you avoid games of keep away_."

"_But those games are fun_," she said.

"_Even when you can barely walk afterwards?_" he chuckled.

She grinned, reaching up to pick a bit of meat from between her teeth with her nail. "_Nah. I mean fun for the prince. I don't think he notices that he smiles once in a while when we're playing._"

"_Possibly_," the troll admitted. "_He is very competitive and goblin fighting is not the easiest style to predict._" He finished tightening the leather strips to secure the head to the haft and handed it to her. "_See if the balance is close to the original one._"

The nekthel crunched again as she took another bite and traded him the rest of the vermin for the hammer. She slid down from the counter and gave it a few practice swings, then flipped it around in her hands in a pattern not unlike one the prince sometimes used. Orchid fumbled the pattern briefly and caught the hammer as it headed for the ground. "_Feels pretty good_," she grinned. "_Although I can't tell for sure unless I practice against someone._"

Wink finished the nekthel and smiled at her. "_I've been thinking lately that I should join your practices, and see if you can surprise me._"

She paused and looked at him thoughtfully. The hammer slid headfirst into the largest pocket alongside one thigh, dropping through an opening in the bottom and into another pocket farther down her leg. It had been Wink's suggestion to cut the stitching along the bottom of the first pocket to improvise a holster, since she was far too small for any sheath or maul-holder that was not specially crafted. "_I'd like that a lot,_" she said softly, then gave him a sudden mischievous grin, "_and I _know _I can surprise you._"

"_Oh you do?_" he asked her with amusement. "_The prince has told me of every trick you've pulled._"

Her face fell and she wrinkled her nose, crossing her arms over her chest with an indignation that was more affected than real. "_That cheater. I was going to use marbles._"

Wink laughed and stood, putting away his tools. "_I know about those, and the pepper, and the machine oil, and the salt, and the beer can, and the hairspray,_" he recited, chortling again as each item ticked off made her scowl deepen. "_No free tricks with me_," the troll said. "_You're going to have to improvise as if I were the prince - only bigger, stronger and better-looking._"

He poked her in the stomach, breaking the pretend scowl and she laughed. They both knew that it was Wink's rough-hewn features that she preferred. "_Or I'll just have to use old tricks in new ways,_" she said. "_That's really the key to fighting, isn't it?_"

"_One of them,_" he agreed, taking another nekthel out and biting it in half. "_It might be more accurate to say it's one key of many._" She looked longingly at the rest of the nekthel and he wrenched off a brittle limb and gave it to her. "_How is your head?_" he asked.

She reached up and felt the back of it, wincing only a little. "_It still hurts, but it's getting a little better every day. Swellings are gone, too._"

"_Are you feeling up to some practice tonight?_"

Orchid smirked knowingly at him, "_It doesn't matter if I am or not; my enemies won't care if I'm feeling good._"

"_Good girl_," he patted her shoulder affectionately. "_Go set up the lamps where they'll be out of harm's way. I'll be out momentarily._"

* * *

The darkened pane of the window brightened slightly, drawing Nuada's attention to look down. Orchid was walking around the main floor, placing small clockwork lamps in places that trial and error had shown were least likely to get knocked over during a vigorous practice. She alternated each task with bites of nekthel. Each cylindrical copper and glass contraption was clamped to a solid surface, then rotated on its base to wind the gears that powered the light. The shutters were then closed to stop the clockwork until the lanterns were needed.

He and Wink could see with little difficulty even in the night-darkened interior of this place; the lamps had been a special concession for the girl, so she could also practice at night, though the prince had been firm on not permitting more than three. There were limitations to the eyes she'd been born with, but practicing in darkness would minimize those. It looked as though Wink was going to work with her this time, and Nuada thought briefly of remaining at home tonight just so he could watch. The moment passed, however, with a mental reminder that he needed to take advantage of every hour available to him to reclaim the crown piece.

Nuada studied the trollmark notations one last time, though he had memorized them hours ago. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine the auction house and the location of each external camera described. Inside shouldn't be too much more difficult to navigate than the outside. He needed to find out first if the crown piece was being held on the premises, and if not, the layout of the auction house and the likeliest location for the auction itself in September.

If, however, it were being held within that building, he would determine how to best liberate it from the humans' worn custody. He refolded the paper and tucked it into the supple leather breastplate laced over his tunic, then turned his inspection to his weapons. Scouting did not often lend itself to confrontation, but he vastly preferred having his weapons without needing them to needing them and not having them. Nuada finished sharpening his halfspear and slid it into the sheath on his back. Crossing it was his sword, also freshly cleaned and sharpened.

The low sounds of conversation drew his attention once more and he glanced down to see Wink coming out of the kitchen, flexing his metal hand as he often did to ensure it was fully limber before practice. His dark mouth twitched a little as he noticed Orchid doing the same with her gauntlet as she flipped open the lantern shutters, and he wondered if she ever realized how much of her behavior mimicked what Wink did.

She was not nearly so fast as Nuada, but she was much quicker than the troll. Wink, however, was well-accustomed to sparring with a faster and more agile partner and he was aware the dirty tricks she had used before. The prince considered the night's work ahead of him, then decided a few more minutes' delay would not matter. He crossed his arms over his chest to watch.

* * *

Orchid had seen Wink fire his metal fist in practice before, but never at _her_. She ducked and rolled under it, darting between his feet. She sprang up and spun, slamming her gauntleted fist into his back and yelped as the impact sent a painful shock up her wrist and arm. He twisted around to snatch her arm with his good hand and dragged her back in front of him, loosening his fingers so the pressure wasn't so bruising. "_Nice try, but the first point is mine_," he chuckled, the metal chain ratcheting as it retracted into his clockwork wrist.

"_How many points are we going to?_" she asked.

"_Light workout,_" he replied. "_Just to one hundred._"

"_One hundred?!_" she squawked. "_I'm going to be paste at ten!_"

"_Then move faster_," Wink told her as he let her go. "_And don't be afraid to hit me_."

She dropped and rolled backwards as he released her, backing away alongside the bar. High above them, Nuada smiled knowingly. Giving Wink room to use that fist was a bad idea.

The fist rocketed towards her again, aiming low to catch her as she crouched, and she jumped straight up and over it. The girl came back down with one foot on the chain, pinning it to the floor, then scraped her foot quickly to one side to wedge the chain under a splintered corner of the bar. The troll yanked at the chain, pulling it through the gap under the bar, but came up short as his fist got stuck. "_Second point mine!_" she crowed as she hopped up onto the bar and pulled out her hammer, dashing towards him with the weapon held low and to the side.

A crashing sound from the kitchen whipped Wink's head around towards that area, and practice was forgotten as he caught Orchid and shoved her down behind the bar. Her yelp of surprise was cut off by his voice.

"_Stay there!_" he growled, whipping the chain to one side to free it from the corner. It remained stuck and he yanked hard to splinter the corner even more and drag his fist back through the opening. Shapes moved within the kitchen, and more were crowding in from the front doors in the hallway. Their shouts of surprise and small forms gave them away. "_Humans!_" he snarled, charging at the larger group coming in through the front.

A brutal backhand sent the first hapless human into the corner of the hallway, his spine breaking against it much like Orchid's hammer had cracked a few days earlier. He grabbed one of the abandoned rave's chairs that had been pushed aside to make room for weapons practice and hurled it at the next human, tangling his legs and dropping him - and the two rushing behind him - into a heap on the floor. Three of the humans broke away from the rear of the pack to go upstairs, and movement from his left came from the basement door bursting open to admit a third group of invaders. He picked up the human who'd tripped over the chair and flung him carelessly into the humans emerging from the basement. Two of them saw the danger and darted in opposite directions to dodge, and the other two were knocked back down the lightless stairs behind them.

Wink turned his attention back to the two humans remaining in the main hallway. One was armed with a length of chain; the other with a curved sword. The troll beckoned them with his metal hand, daring the humans to come within reach. When neither one took the invitation, Wink shrugged casually with a malicious smile and fired his fist at them. The one with the sword lunged aside, and the fist caught the other one full in the chest with a wet crunch, propelling him back to hit the far wall at the foot of the stairs.

Behind him, he could hear the distinct note of Elven silver singing through the air as Nuada intercepted the group coming in from the kitchen. The chain rasped in his arm as it reeled in his fist, and he gave a sudden jerk of that arm to bounce that fist up on its way back. It struck the head of one of the humans still on the ground, and the human dropped with a groan and did not move again. The other one, much darker of skin than his forcibly sleeping ally, looked past Wink and his eyes widened with recognition and a sudden fury. "That's him!" he shouted and headed across the rave at a dead run, ignoring the troll.

Wink was just turning to follow the human; the strange behavior had touched off a foreboding within the troll. A loud crack echoed in the room and Wink roared in pain as something struck his face just above his mouth with a burning ache and a jarring in his jaw. His eyes went up to the second floor, where three humans lurked above, each one armed with a gun. A sallow-skinned human was staring at him with wide eyes, the gun in his hand exhaling a thin ribbon of bluish smoke.

Orchid peeked over the edge of the bar, staring in shock at the humans that seemed to be suddenly everywhere. Wink had charged into a group of them, and two of them, she was sure, were never going to get up again. The prince had charged out of the staircase leading to the office above and met the enemies spilling in from the kitchen with a whirling halfspear. A crack split the air and Wink roared, yanking her attention back to him. A bullet had struck him just above his lip, tearing away a chunk of it before continuing in its path to splinter the tip of the tusk on the opposite side.

She followed Wink's look above to see the humans there and a red rage flooded her at their cowardice. Taking a grip on the hammer, she vaulted over the end of the bar and charged upstairs.

* * *

Nuada easily evaded a clumsy swing of heavy chain from one human, dropping low and slashing his halfspear across and just above both knees to sever the tendons. The human screamed and fell backwards, and Nuada threw himself into a backwards flip to avoid a second human's wooden club. Another, much louder shot sounded, and it felt like a heavy punch had landed on the back of his right shoulder to knock the wind out of his body. He reached briefly for the burning ache and his hand came away wet with amber blood. The wound was locked into a compartment in his mind and set aside for the time being. The burning pain in that shoulder flared as he blocked the human's club with his halfspear. Nuada delivered a solid kick to the human's midsection and drove him back for the moment he needed to switch the weapon to his other hand.

A rushing to his left alerted him and he spun to face it, bringing his halfspear up to catch the ringing blow of a sword-

_A sword? In the hands of a human?_

The human bore down with his weight on the curved blade, his dark eyes glittering with hate. Nuada knew well how that emotion colored human expressions. He turned his spear so the sword slid aside and hit the human in the throat with a hard punch of his right hand. Nuada gritted his teeth as fresh pain burst across his shoulder, and while the blow rocked the human back, it didn't crush his throat as the prince had meant.

Another shot rang out, and he felt the wind of its passage as the bullet skimmed by his head and buried itself in the wall. Splinters and dust flew into his face and he flinched back from it, splitting his attention between the human with the sword and whoever was firing at him. The dark-skinned human before him lashed out with a straight-arm swipe and Nuada blocked it and dropped, letting the force of the swing continue harmlessly over his head as he jabbed the halfspear at the human's unprotected stomach. Faster than he'd thought the human could move, his enemy jumped back, drawing from behind himself a second, smaller sword matching the first. The grip of his hands and the set of his muscles indicated that the human knew very well how to fight with both blades.

With the addition of more humans crowding in and unknown assailants above, this fight promised to be interesting. Nuada reversed his strike and sent it to his right, puncturing another human's stomach and twisting the blade viciously in the wound. Across the room, he could see Wink, blue blood running down his face, picking up two humans and slamming their heads together with a sharp cracking sound. The second floor, where the humans with guns were, formed an overhang across the back wall. If he could get under there, he could deal with the humans below without worrying overmuch about bullets from above.

He sensed more than heard another shot and dove forward into a roll to avoid it. The floor splintered where he'd been just a few moments earlier, and the dark-skinned human wielding the sword shouted angrily, "Watch it, Shelly!"

Nuada parried the next slash from the sword, and another shot tore through the outside of his upper arm, jarring the numbing ache in the back of his shoulder. Nuada called to Wink in Elven, "_Switch!_" He ducked under a wild swing and sprinted to the troll, sheathing the halfspear and drawing his sword. Wink twisted his body to throw his arm out, catching a human's rush at neck level. The force of the blow and the human's momentum made the smaller body flip upwards, feet first. The body was still in its upward arc when Nuada ran up Wink's back, leveling his sword to eviscerate the enemy just as the human reached the apex of his swing above Wink's arm. Nuada dove off Wink's shoulder, rolling into the center of the knot of humans emerging from the basement and sprang up with that sword flashing, finding crimson release with every spin and thrust.

* * *

"Watch it, Shelly!" came an angry shout from below as Orchid halted at the second floor, taking a moment to see what was up here with her. Two humans were visible; one other teenage girl that she could see, and another boy farther along the ledge, near the hole that Wink had made their first day here. Both were aiming guns down below, but while the boy seemed to be hesitating and shifting his aim frequently, the girl had hers pointed steadily and squeezed off another shot. Down below, an amber spray flew from the prince's upper arm.

The sight galvanized Orchid and she lunged forward, hammer held in her left hand, and brought the heavy weapon down with a crunch on the girl's wrist. She shrieked, turning towards Orchid, and the smaller girl drew back her gauntlet and slugged her across the face with all of her strength, almost missing the sound of the other girl's cheekbone shattering. The blow knocked the human off-balance and she toppled off the landing.

Orchid nearly screamed with triumph, but the sound was cut off as a rough hand yanked her away from the edge so suddenly that she fell back, long habit taking over as she went limp and rolled to come up in a crouch facing the human that had been behind her, hidden from view by the half-wall of the room. Adrian and she stared at each other with nearly identical looks of shock, and he started towards her, "Orchid, what the _hell _are you doing helping these freaks?"

In his other hand she recognized the gun that he'd used to shoot Wink. "_Filthy human!_" she spat and surged up to her feet to lend her whole weight to the strike, using both hands to bring the hammer up between his legs. There was a distant crack as the pubic bone snapped and Adrian's face went flaccid with shock. She pulled the hammer back and turned in place, giving the hammer more momentum as she spun to cave in the side of his head before he could suck in the breath to scream.

The other boy, farther down the landing, turned at the sound of her voice and saw her kill Adrian. His gun snapped to her and he jerked the trigger, sending a wild shot into the plaster some feet away. Orchid ducked reflexively and darted forward, throwing herself into a loose roll into his legs. He shot twice more in quick succession, even more hastily than the first shot. One bullet left a bloody furrow along her arm, but did nothing to stop her rush as she charged at him and knocked him back into the hole made by Wink. The impact carried them both off the ledge.

She went limp as she fell; too many falls in practice with Nuada taught her that lesson quickly. She hit the ground floor to the side of the hole and rolled as she landed, avoiding some bruises but not all of them. Her hammer clattered down the ramp created when the ground floor had broken away under Wink's weight and slid into the basement. Orchid took one look around to see humans still up and fighting, and jumped onto the ramp to slide down after the hammer. The battle wasn't over and she still needed it to protect her family.

The human had windmilled his arms, scrambling to catch the edge. One hand just barely managed to snatch the jagged wood, halting himself while Orchid fell. The gun dropped from his grasp, into the hole in the ground floor, and discharged hollowly in the depths of the basement. His sweaty fingers slipped off the wood, and he yelped in pain as splinters drove into his flesh. Gravity, the swing of his body or fortune, or perhaps some combination of all three, conspired for him to land just in front of the hole in the stage area rather than into it. The fall bruised him, but didn't break him, and for a moment, relief flitted through his face of pain.

Then Wink stepped on him with a heavy hoof as the troll met another attacker.

* * *

Wink punched another human with his good hand, sending him back into a tangle of arms and legs towards the bar. As his body swung about with the blow, he held his mechanical hand low and open. Nuada leaped lightly into it, dropping into a crouch as Wink swung his body back the other way and launched the prince up and over the enemies crowding the troll towards the human with the sword. Nuada somersaulted in the air, landing behind the human and diving into a forward roll to avoid a reverse thrust. He jumped to his feet, catching the curved sword against the metal haft of his halfspear with another sharp ringing sound. The prince flipped backwards in place, kicking out to catch the human in the jaw and knock him backwards. Nuada came down on the balls of his feet, a single thought lengthening his weapon to its full range.

The wounds in his right shoulder and arm hampered his movements, but his skill was still more than sufficient to kill any human. He slashed the lance in an arc around him, scaring back more humans and gutting one that moved too slowly for his own safety. As the dark human came back at him, Nuada leaped to the side, setting his feet against the bar and propelling himself up to catch one of the electrical wires dangling from the rooms above. He let go as he swung, dropping back down to the bartop and sliding along it towards another human using the bar to struggle to his feet. This one was impaled from behind, and Nuada jumped forward, rolling over the human as he ripped the spear back out. The dark-skinned human was the only one that seemed utterly focused on Nuada; the others seemed much more disorganized and content to lash out at either him or the troll.

Wink released the fist of his metal hand and swung that arm in a circle above his head. The chain ratcheted as it unreeled, the air whistling across the fey metal as his fist whipped faster and faster through the air. The humans, unused in this time to the devastation of a flail, stared at him uncertainly for a few seconds. It was more than he needed as he hurled the fist out into an arc that caught one of them and plowed him into the other. His hand, fully obedient to the troll's thoughts, snatched one human's head and broke it with a thick crunch. He jerked his arm suddenly, yanking back his hand and dragging the human's body with it. The troll grinned nastily at the remaining human as he swung his fist like a flail again, with the first human's body still attached.

Something hit him in the back, a hard blow that would have sent an Elf or human to their knees. Wink grunted and slung the human corpse down behind him without looking. A surprised cry was splintered with the sound of bone cracking as both bodies hit the floor. He glanced down to see the human underneath the corpse still moving, and stomped down on both bodies with his full weight, shattering both ribcages. He looked back up at the remaining human just getting to his feet, the pasty features going utterly white as the intruder looked around and realized that only he and the dark-skinned swordsman were still alive. He turned to run, and the last human, the one with the swords, cut him down as he tried to flee.

Wink and Nuada watched with interest; the slaying of a battlefield coward was something they had not seen since the earliest wars. The human looked back up at them both and pointed his shorter sword at Nuada. "Just you," he said. "I don't care about that monster next to you, or the little bitch spying for you. You killed my brother, and all I want is a chance at your head."

The Elf and the troll exchanged a glance, both fighting derisive laughter at the human's boldness. The prince nodded slightly and Wink grinned, lifting his hands in a gesture that humans often used to surrender and took a step back. Nuada strolled forward and bowed mockingly. "Very well, human," he purred, the lance retracting to a halfspear again. "Show me why I should fear you."

The human spun the swords in his hands once, then charged at Nuada. The longer one came up for an overhanded strike; the smaller one was held low to block an answering attack. The Elf watched him approach, taking no action to dodge or defend himself, and at the last instant, before the longer sword slashed down, he moved. White hair fanned out as he spun to one side, faster than any human could see, and stabbed the halfspear once. The blade bit into the side of the human's chest under his upraised arm. At his thought, the spear shot out to its full length, emerging from the human's other shoulder with a burst of red.

The human froze in place and coughed, turning to look at Nuada with confused eyes that didn't realize he was already dead. Through the haft of the spear, Nuada could feel the faint pulse of the human's heart at it labored to a halt. The swords clattered as they fell to the floor and the human sank to his knees, still staring at the prince. Nuada gave the weapon a quarter-twist as it retracted back into itself, so the blade could do more damage coming out. The human coughed once more and collapsed with blood running from his mouth, dying without glory, his pitiful vengeance denied.

The silence was almost deafening, broken only by the breathing of the two fey. Nuada and Wink looked about them, scrutinizing each corpse to make sure it was truly dead. One gang member stirred and groaned, his hands going to the depression left in his abdomen by Wink's foot, and Nuada prowled over to finish him with a thrust through the empty heart. He glanced around once more at the humans, then his regard sharpened suddenly, noting that one person was absent. Wink saw the expression on the prince's face and looked around abruptly, realizing also that she wasn't in sight.

They both relaxed as she came through the door leading to the basement, her hammer nearly touching the floor as it hung at her side from her left hand. A shallow gash along that arm occasionally dripped blood and she stepped carefully around the bodies, her nose wrinkling in disgust. Unlike many females and quite a few green soldiers, it didn't appear that she would be giving in to hysterics anytime soon. Her face was pale and sweat beaded her forehead, but otherwise looked none the worse for wear for her first true battle. The gauntlet squeaked a little as her hands shook and she laughed at herself, "_I'm jittery_."

The prince's features relaxed into a real smile at her, his own blood still up from the fight and the rush of victory. "The first engagement is always the hardest," he said. "The battle-fever will wear off soon."

She grinned back at Nuada, then dropped the hammer and ran to Wink, throwing herself into his arms. The troll crouched to scoop her up and lifted her onto his shoulder, where he noticed a fresh rent in her shirt. He lifted the edge to make sure no wounds were hidden beneath, concealed even from Orchid by shock, but her abdomen was unmarked and he lowered the shirt again. He picked up the hem, pressing a fingertip into the bullet hole left there. "_This attack was a close one_," he commented.

"_Mine was closer_," she said with a shrug, then took his face in both hands and turned it towards her. The wound in his upper lip got a quick inspection and she touched the shattered spur of bone at his chin. "_They broke your tusk,_" she said mournfully.

Troll tusks, particularly for males, were a point of pride, but he waved it off. Already the triangular gap in his lip had stopped bleeding, and there was a bullet graze across one thigh, but that too was quickly healing. "_And you killed the human that did it_," he said, patting her leg, "_I think the tip is avenged_," he said with a touch of humor.

Orchid glowed with pride and hugged him. Nuada was not surprised to hear her whisper into Wink's ear, "_I love you_."

The prince shook his head a little, wondering momentarily why it didn't bother him, then turned his attention to the deep furrow along his right arm, touching it briefly to seal the skin back together. It was not a true healing magic, but it served quite well enough to speed up the healing process. Nuada reached behind himself to the larger wound against his shoulderblade and sighed as he felt a hard lump beneath the swollen flesh. "If I may interrupt such a touching picture," he said dryly, "Wink, I will need your aid to remove this bullet."

The troll nodded and set her back down onto the floor before moving behind Nuada. The silk split with a wet tearing sound as Wink ripped open the small hole to see the wound, prodding the edges of it with a fingertip. "Feels as though the bullet flattened against bone after it entered," Wink rumbled. "It must be cut free."

Nuada handed the other fey his twin-dagger over that shoulder. Wink took it and with practiced swiftness, if not grace, sliced into skin and muscle to dig the smashed chunk of metal out with the dagger tip. The prince braced one hand against the bartop and clenched his teeth, but otherwise gave no sign of discomfort. Once the bullet was gone, he touched the wound again, sealing it closed as he'd done with the first. Chances were good that the wound would leave a scar on the back of his right shoulder, but the scar would likely be little more than a line following the incision Wink had made. The rest of the injuries he and Wink had taken would make themselves known later, but for the time being he hardly felt the pain through his jubilant mood. Eighteen humans died, and all of his people had survived; it was a good day.

He finished tending to himself as Wink asked, "What will we do with the bodies?"

Nuada sighed. They had just settled into their home here, and the sheer amount of blood left by the humans was going to make it uninhabitable. In addition to that, transporting the bodies to dispose of elsewhere was problematic as well. "I suppose we will have to move on," he said thoughtfully. It was much faster and easier to erase all traces of three fey, than that of eighteen humans. "The sounds of the shots may bring the attention of the human police, and we cannot be here when they arrive."

He thought briefly of the detective in the alley behind Midnighrunner and smirked. The human would doubtless find tonight's work to be most distracting. Perhaps he may even arrive to an accurate conclusion or two. Nuada turned to tell the girl to begin packing, the faint smile vanishing in favor of an exasperated frown as he saw no sign of her. "Now where did she go?"

"I'll find her," Wink said, starting for the door.

"We have not the time for childish play," Nuada remarked with a touch of annoyance as he followed Wink. The two of them could search more efficiently than one. "I expect camp broken and packed within the hour."

* * *

Pops Rubelli straightened from mopping, rubbing his back as it creaked. The distant sounds of gunshots earlier this evening had worried him at first, and he'd considered calling the police, but realized that the people who were closer to the sounds would be better able to inform the cops what was going on. It wasn't apathy - he was actually quite concerned - but a pragmatic acknowledgment that his help would be less than that given by others, and possibly a detriment. He had no idea where the shots were coming from, nor who might be involved. The police might search this neighborhood for hours and not find the people who needed help.

His portly features were florid and the darkness of his hair had invited streaks of gray long ago, but he was still perfectly capable of running his corner store without the "help" of his nephew. The younger Rubelli came in once a week to make sure the books were balanced and the store was turning a profit. A piece of paper declared him a certified public accountant, but Pops kept having to review the books afterward and fix the mistakes his nephew made. He also did all the cleaning up, stocking, ordering and receiving, as well as opening and closing tasks. He did all of the work here, and no fancily educated boy, even if it was his own blood, was going to tell him how to run _his _place. Just last week, his nephew had been lecturing him about installing a closed-circuit monitoring system. Pops had sneered at the idea; being up and about in the store was part of what connected him to his customers.

He'd been working since four o' clock this morning, and now it was nearing midnight, almost closing time. The bell over the door rang once as someone came in and he trudged back to the counter set up along the inside wall where he could see the front. He saw nobody at first and his plump lips pursed in speculation. Realizing his customer might have headed straight to the back, he returned that way.

That's when he heard the footsteps moving quickly away. He caught a glimpse of a girl rushing out, something in her hand. "Damn it," he muttered, fetching his baseball bat from behind the counter to chase her down. It had proved useful in foiling two holdups and in administering a bit of life lessoning into the head of many a would-be thief. The old Louisville slugger had been used frequently in the latter regard, and it angered him that punk kids felt they could help themselves to something he put his heart and soul into. A few blunt lessons with the bat had taught even the least intelligent shoplifters to stay away from Pops Rubelli's place. This one would learn the same.

The bell rang again as he pushed the door open, breaking into a run to catch up to the thief. The strain on his knees from his weight was painful and he gritted his teeth. "Get back here!" he hollered, raising the bat.

Like usual, his shout distracted the kid, making her pause and he swung as soon as he was close enough. She was just looking back over her shoulder as the bat connected with the back of her head with a dull _thwack _that echoed down the street. The girl lurched forward and dropped like a discarded rag. Pops rolled his eyes, used to these theatrics. Too many kids tried to imitate unconsciousness when he tapped them, and it was mostly for his sympathy. Every single one had gotten up and walked away. He leaned down to see what she had in her hand - a bunch of grapes, on sale this week - and snatched them back. "Teach you to steal an honest man's work," he snorted, prodding her with the bat until she opened her eyes. "Get up, kid. I know you're faking."

She groaned a little and rolled over, a metallic creak coming from some strange mitt on her other hand. The teenager staggered to her feet, unsteady as a sailor just come in from a storm. He shook his head; kids were drinking younger and younger these days. He held up the grapes and shook them at her sternly. "Get a job and earn some spending money; don't go thinking you can just take whatever you like - now _get _before I call the cops."

Pops Rubelli turned away, satisfied that another kid had learned an important lesson not to mess with him. He went back into the store to the display of fresh fruits and other produce. The bunch of grapes he began to set back on the pile, then stopped, noticing that several of the grapes on their stems were crushed or bruised. He scowled, irritated at the thief, then put the bat away and went back to cleaning his store.

As he picked up the mop again, he tossed the grapes into the trash. Damaged fruit never sold.

* * *

They split up once outside, Nuada heading to the alley behind the rave. Wink walked to the street that passed along the front of their home. He looked up one way, then down the other and his murky eyes narrowed. Farther down the street, he saw Orchid struggle to her feet as an overweight human shook something at her. The human turned away, setting his wooden club on one shoulder, and went back into the small grocery store down the block. The girl turned back towards the rave, walking somewhat unsteadily at first, then more so, her path listing to one side until she bumped into the fence surrounding Midnighrunner. "Nuada!" Wink called, using the prince's given name for only the third time in his life as he ran to meet her.

The prince emerged from the alley almost instantly, on alert by the fear in his friend's voice. He saw the girl and relaxed a little, starting forward to lecture her on her impulsiveness and breaking the standing command never to go out alone. That they had just killed the reasons for that order was irrelevant; it was still an order. She was reeling as she walked, like she had drunk an entire flute of good Elven wine. For a moment, Nuada couldn't imagine what was wrong, even as Wink lunged forward to catch her when she staggered.

Realization crystallized a spike of ice through him and he ran to catch up to the pair. The troll picked her up in his arms as if she was made of spun glass that would shatter at the slightest pressure. Her eyes couldn't seem to focus and a faint tremor shook her hands. "_Got caught,_" she said, the words somewhat slurred.

Nuada felt a strange rushing sensation as the ground dropped away from under his feet; he had heard words run together like that before, during the wars. "What happened?" he demanded of Wink.

"I'm not sure," the troll replied. "There was a human down that way, he had a club..." His eyes were wide with worry as he felt the back of her head. Blunt weapons made of wood were less likely to break bone, but had a curious tendency of otherwise doing the same damage as those of metal. "Orchid, did he hit you?"

He had to repeat the question before she seemed to understand and she nodded. "Yeah," she muttered, losing her grasp of Troll. "A bit."

Nuada set his hands lightly on either side of her head, trying not to think of having done this before. There were no lacerations of the scalp or swellings, but at the back where the old injury was still only half-healed there was an area that felt feverish under his fingers. Heedless of the human factor, or past failures, he sent a thread of power into the injury, willing it to heal. His magic curled inside with no effect and he scowled in frustration, sending it farther into her head. It recoiled from the skin and bone that was still intact, but underneath that he sensed a pressure that was growing rapidly. The blow had torn fragile blood vessels under her skull and blood was gushing from them, trapped inside with no room to go.

Wink was staring at him, his features torn between anxiety and despair. Nuada slowly withdrew his hands, feeling the flesh-shaping magic wither and fade. His magic would not work, not with bone still whole, and neither he nor Wink had the skills of a chirurgeon. The prince suppressed a shudder as he shook his head slightly, trying to think of something - anything - they could do. Nothing in his long lifetime of wounds and death offered any wisdom or comfort.

"No," Wink muttered, the rough planes of his face crumbling as he tried to deny it.

Nuada looked back down at the girl, whose skin had taken an ashen tone. Those muddy green eyes were trying to focus on Nuada, and as he'd shaken his head, they had filled with tears. "What does... that mean?" she asked, forcing the mushy words out past the pain and confusion. She was beginning to hyperventilate, and the breaths were short and fast.

Healers often told gentle lies to the dying, to ease their fears. Nuada never did, though telling the truth was a burden that was heavier than a hundredweight of stone in his chest. "There is nothing I can do," he said, his voice sounding to him as if it were coming from far away. "You are bleeding inside your head; I cannot stop it."

"No..." she moaned, understanding what he didn't put into words. She tried to say more, but her eyes rolled back into her head suddenly as her body convulsed violently. Wink held her steady until the seizure passed, leaving behind only the faint shaking in her extremities. The tremors in her hands had grown to encompass her arms and her legs as well, tracing better than any spell the path of the growing damage. The face she turned up to Wink was a mask of panic and pain and pleading tangled together. "I don't want... to go..." she whispered, her words edged with fright. Despite the battle, despite killing without hesitation or fear, the prospect of an unknown darkness looming as it rushed closer would terrify anyone, let alone a child.

The troll glanced at Nuada helplessly, and Nuada himself wasn't certain what to say or do. The fey did not have an afterlife, not like the humans believed existed. Did she truly have a fey soul and would be reborn, or would she rot like decaying meat as other humans did? Which did he believe, and how much should he say? What was the truth, when applied to a human-born fey?

After a few seconds, he touched her shoulder lightly. His ivory features were set in stone, but his voice was the gentlest he'd ever used with her. "Imagine a land filled with soft green grass," he said quietly, "and ancient trees that whisper to each other when the wind is right..."

Orchid turned her face back towards him, her gaze sliding in and out of awareness. Her mouth quivered as the pain of dying overtook the fear of it. Her breath was shallow and hitched with the effort of continuing to sustain her. Another convulsion took her, but was diminished from before. Her head lolled against Wink's arm with little strength or control.

"Amongst the trees, hidden within the grass," Nuada continued when the fit had passed, forcing the soft words past a tightness in his throat. "There are orchids... Hundreds of them, with petals of red and white. In the largest one you will find a fairy sleeping," he swallowed hard. "And she will play with you when she awakens."

"...will she... like me...?" she whispered, a single filament of hope sliding through the fear.

Nuada nodded. "She will," he told her, barely keeping the final word steady.

The girl looked back at Wink, who was keeping his face still with less success than the prince. She reached up with her right arm to hug him, faltering as the last of her strength trickled away. Wink held her closer and she tucked her face against his chest. "It hurts... so much..." she slurred, her words barely recognizable.

The troll closed his eyes briefly against grief. "It will stop soon, daughter," he murmured to her, tracing a light finger over her forehead to push aside a strand of her hair. She huddled closer to him, as much as she could manage and he hugged her to him, cradling her in place with both hands. The shaking in her limbs began to diminish as her breathing got faster, fighting a hopeless battle to live.

Wink held her until the shaking ceased, and her breathing faded. He inhaled sharply as her body shuddered one last time and went utterly still. Her right arm slid from his neck to dangle at her side. The gauntlet, sized so that she could continue growing into it, slipped from her hand and hit the ground with a harsh metallic clash. They both flinched at the sound, and something seemed to tear loose inside the troll. A dry sob ground out of his throat, a low gravelly keen that Nuada had not heard in nearly five hundred years, and the Elf bled inside to hear his friend make that sound once again. Somewhere, he recognized his own numbness as shock. Had it only been this morning that he'd painted her face?

Her other arm lay limp across her stomach, curled into a loose fist. Something small and dark was caught in it and Nuada reached out with one hand to take hers and turn it over. His thumb uncurled her fingers, revealing a broken stem with two smashed grapes attached. Without any conscious thought, his fingertips pinched the stem and lifted it up, his firegold eyes staring at the battered fruit.

Unasked, unwanted, the image of green grapes left on his pillow intruded into Nuada's mind, spearing past his defenses and dragging with it more memories of grapes left in odd places for him to find. He took a ragged breath. Truly, how deeply would he have betrayed Elfland if he'd only accepted them once?

"Who did this?" he asked, the words flat and cold despite the buried anger that burned at his self-control. The numb feeling fled from the burn.

Wink had cupped a trembling hand around her head and was pressing it against his shoulder. Tears traced gray-tinged lines down his face as he looked at Nuada, his features shaking with barely-contained fury. It seemed to take him a few seconds to understand the question and he nodded down the street. "A human merchant," he replied, "down there."

At the word merchant, the anger burst into full flame. That a human had murdered his vassal over something so insignificant colored his vision red. That it had been a human whose greed exceeded even that of his brethren drove away the last of his reason. His hand clenched into a fist, pulping the grapes. Juice ran unnoticed from between his fingers. His awareness arrowed to the corner shop, the only window still lit in the darkened neighborhood. An ache inside him was pushed away; he did not fully understand why it was there or how it could run so deep, so it was locked away in the corner of his soul that normally held his anger. "Wink," he said in a low voice. "Go inside and make ready for our departure."

"I cannot leave her here," the troll said.

"And you will not," Nuada replied, his harsh eyes still on the store. "We will take her home and bury her with your son, then return here to finish what we have started."

Wink nodded, the anger in his craggy face souring with overtones of hatred. He crouched down carefully to pick up Orchid's gauntlet from the ground, resting it on her stomach. "Humans killed them both," he said, his voice shaking with rage. "You said once that we would drive them back into their cities and destroy those cities until they fled to their caves. I want to do that. I want to be waiting for them in those caves when they seek solace." The flint of his words could have carved his pain and rage into the bones of the earth. "I _want _this war," he growled.

"We will have it, my friend. I promise you that," Nuada's tone was just as ruthless. "I will return soon."

He was barely aware of Wink leaving to do as he'd ordered, or of taking the first step towards that store. The mingled sounds of human giggling and cilfa'lir chirring danced in his head. Always, humans hungered.

Another step; his hand went to his sword hilt.

Scarlet eyes rich with mischief flitted across his vision and vanished. Always, they devoured.

Another step; the metal slid from its sheath with a vengeful whisper.

White petalskin under sunlight, bronze skinpaint arching over a green-brown eye. Always, they destroyed.

By the next step he was running; the air singing across the silver blade held low at his side.

A tin bell clashed in protest as he shouldered open the door, and a fat human jumped and turned to see him. His watery eyes widened in sudden fear as Nuada advanced upon him, surely recognizing from the baleful gold eyes and fierce visage that his own death approached. The human dropped the mop and ran for the merchant's counter to the side. Nuada reached him just as the plump hand closed on the handle of a baseball bat, turning his sword to punch the human in the face with the heavy pommel. The blow sent a flare of pain up his shoulder from the healing gunshot wound and that pain was sent back deep inside to fuel the flames of his anger.

The merchant's head rocked back and he stumbled backwards a few steps. He kept his grip on the bat, however, and swung it at Nuada. The prince avoided the clumsy attacks with ease, stalking forward as the human scrambled back from him, stopping only when he bumped against the rear wall. The sight of the curved blade glittering in one ivory hand made the human turn pale with fear. "Please!" the human cried, attacking again in blind desperation. "Just take the money and go!"

At the mention of money, the reminder of human valuation of _things _over all else, even each other, only fed the fury. Nuada snarled wordlessly and thrust the sword diagonally across his body to catch the swing of the bat. The fey metal bit deeply into the wood and with a spin of his wrist, the prince tore the pitiful excuse for a club out of the human's greasy hands.

The human stammered, trying to form words from pieces of terror; he was much more afraid now that he was unarmed. The prince pried the club from his blade, sheathing the sword momentarily to take the bat in both hands. The muscles of his arms flexed and tightened as he twisted his hands in opposite directions abruptly, shearing the bat along the cut left by his sword. The wood cracked loudly, splitting into two sharp splinters and the human's skin went completely white. "I'll give you anything," the merchant begged, "Just please don't kill me."

"Where was this enlightened generosity when you murdered one of my people?" the prince growled, and with a vicious thrust, Nuada drove both splinters into the human's shoulders to pin him against the wall. The human screamed in sudden pain, blood staining the faded plaid of his shirt. Drawing his sword once more, Nuada turned his hand palm upwards and plunged the sword into the human's lower abdomen, then yanked it up abruptly, slicing through organs and muscle until the silver rasped against the bottom of the human's breastbone.

The scream cut off suddenly as the muscle that controlled breathing was sliced in half. Blood and other pieces of viscera began to spill out of the opening and the human looked up at Nuada with eyes that were quickly clouding, "...why...?" he whispered with the last of his breath.

The prince stared back at him coldly, his chest heaving with a chaos of emotion. His handsome face contorted in fresh rage and he swung the sword again, taking off the human's head. That strike released a flood within him and he made a strangled sound, hacking at the body again and again. The wet sounds of Elven silver in human flesh drove away the pain of a lifetime of losses that could never heal. It drove away the softness he'd been growing for a human vassal. It drove away his weakness and the last consideration that he would ever honor Balor's treaty again.

The butchered body slumped, the weight of the corpse splintering the wood from the wall and it fell forward. Nuada stepped back to avoid being fouled further by contact with it, though his armor and silks were soaked with blood. More of the viscous liquid dripped from his white hair and several thick dribbles tickled down his face. His hands were gloved in crimson where they gripped the hilt of his sword, the blade dulled by the human's death; not a single hint of the silver was visible.

Only when the pile of meat had fallen to the floor did Nuada's vision clear and his wits return. _Why?_ the human had asked.

Nuada bent down to pick up the back of the merchant's shirt, the only part of this section of the store that was not spattered with red. His voice was black with frost as he wiped his blade clean, answering the merchant's dead question with words chilled by every scrap of hate and rage he'd ever felt leveled against humanity.

"The death of a royal guard demands an answer."


	15. Epilogue

_AN: And it comes at last to the beginning of Hellboy 2..._

* * *

Hatcher looked up from her desk as the door opened. Papers and books were scattered all over the scuffed wood surface, burying personal items and her calendar desk pad. As Detective Luna shut the door behind him, she was grateful for the mess that covered the Hello Kitty notepad. She took one look at his face, for once devoid of its usual hard sarcasm, and leaned over to adjust the window-mounted air conditioner to the cooler temperature that he preferred. It was the end of June and New York's summer was winding up its curveball heat like it did every year. "You look like hell, Detective," she said conversationally as he dropped with a weary sigh onto the overstuffed couch wedged in the corner beside a narrow bookcase with no more grace than a tired bear.

And he did look tired. The suit was wrinkled, the tie undone, the shirt collar was unbuttoned and stained with yesterday's sweat. She frowned. "Martin, haven't you been home?"

"Not since yesterday morning," he said, rubbing his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. A standard gray case file folder was held loosely in one hand on his lap. His hand dropped to rasp against the stubble as he rubbed his face. "I came here because I wanted your advice on something."

Hatcher suppressed the first flip comment that came to mind. She leaned back in her chair, ignoring the squeak from the springs underneath the seat. "About what?"

"You remember those prints I asked you to run?"

A touch of sarcasm escaped unintentionally. "I'm a criminologist, Martin. You ask me to run a lot of prints."

He didn't glare at her or rise to the accidental bait. He flipped open the slim file and paged through it. "Cat food," he said tiredly.

Now she knew which prints he meant. He'd gotten called to another gang-related homicide, a double one in an alley near the Brooklyn Bridge, and amidst the blood and body parts there had been some items that had struck him and the rest of the forensics team as a little odd: three cans of 9 Lives' brand "Seafood Platter" cat food. Her colleagues had managed to lift some very clear friction ridges off the cans that did not match either victim, and Martin had insisted they be run right away. With rival gang slayings on his beat, Luna wanted to know who else had been in that alley before tensions erupted into a full-fledged gang war on his streets, a war that had apparently ended abruptly in a bloodbath two nights earlier. He'd gone to Hatcher with the prints and asked her to contact her sister-in-law at the FBI to speed up a search that normally took weeks to complete. "Fiona found a match," she said, not bothering to phrase it as a question. "Is it someone you know?"

"Yes and no," he said. Four sheets of paper with fax stamps across the tops were picked out from the rest. "Fleming, Michelle Patrice. Born April 23, 1994 to Paul and Alexandra Fleming. Went missing in Fremont, California in July of 2004. Parents divorced in March of that year, and Alexandra got full custody. She remarried three months later, and Paul moved to Washington. According to this, the daughter wanted to go live with her father, but her mother got custody because she had the better income."

"Four years to cross the U.S.," Hatcher said. "Not bad for a kid, but she went the wrong way."

"Yeah," Luna said and leaned forward. "Now take a look at this," he added, sliding the pages across the papers already scattered in front of her.

She picked them up and paged through them rapidly, scanning the locations and dates associated with this missing person's case. On the second pass, she noticed the black-and-white photo and her eyes widened. "She looks familiar."

"Yeah," he said again. "That was the kid looking into the alley while we were investigating the Marquez homicide." The one he'd scared off, and it looked like that exchange was haunting him over and over. "She was right there, Debra. Right in front of me."

Hatcher got up from her chair and went over to sit next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders. "You couldn't have known, Martin," she said. "Hundreds of thousands of children go missing every year. It's impossible for you to have guessed that she was one."

"That's not going to help her parents," he said. "Now she's involved in this Blood and Crip bullshit, and with the slaughter in that old hotel..." he sighed. "I don't know. There were only South Central Crips and Pure Nation 13 corpses there, but as far as we knew, the two gangs were allies. I don't think they were fighting each other, but how in the hell do eighteen gang members get cut down like that and not a single rival corpse is at the scene?"

"Well, on the upside," she said, "at least you know she wasn't there. Or, if she was, then she survived. The FBI can still locate her." She glanced over at her desk, frowning at the report she'd been reading intently when Luna had walked in. Eighteen corpses, and there were nineteen different blood samples at the scene, along with two other fluids that Jeffrey had said were "just weird and probably not blood."

Eighteen of the samples had been matched to the bodies, but whose blood was the nineteenth sample? It was pushing the boundaries of coincidence that it was the Fleming girl's.

"That's not what I wanted your advice for," he said. He leaned back onto the cushions, and she leaned back with him. It brought back memories for her of how they'd had sex on this couch twice - once during business hours right after lunch. He slumped down and rested his head on her shoulder. "I want to call her parents and let them know I saw her."

"Martin, that's something the FBI should do," she said. "You tell them and let them worry about calling the parents."

He shook his head and sighed. "I can't. I saw her and I scared her off. I'm the reason she's missing again, and I feel like I should at least talk to them. Thing is, her mother got full custody, but I don't know if I should call her."

She frowned. "Putting aside the fact that you'd be stepping on enough Federal toes to be a security guard next year, why not?"

Luna smiled, an expression that had absolutely no warmth to it. He flipped through the file again. "Mass-mailers with a missing kid's photo on them flood the postal service right after a kid's gone missing. After the initial print, the next hot abduction or lost child gets the spotlight. Parents that pay for it can have their kid's photo rerun periodically, and Paul Fleming's been footing the bill for that, not Alexandra. Makes me wonder just how fair the custody decision was."

"Legally speaking, you should call the mother..." she said slowly.

"But my gut says to call the father," he finished. "And at the same time, wouldn't that be too cruel? What am I going to say? 'Hey, I found your kid at a homicide scene in Brooklyn and scared her off. Found her prints at another homicide scene a couple weeks later, but since we haven't found a body, I think she's really okay after all.' Debra, I'm an asshole, but I'm not that much of an asshole."

Hatcher shrugged, not knowing what to say or how to say it. He slipped an arm around her waist and she put her other arm around his shoulder, cradling him against her. "I don't know, Martin," she said finally. "I don't know what's the right thing to do."

* * *

Dim firelight fell across the massive relief set into the wall, casting twitching shadows that made the metal sculpture seem more alive than it was. Nuada stared at it intently, resting his halfspear casually across his shoulder. He could see within the branches and roots of the tree more faces that he hadn't noticed before. Each time he viewed the image, he found more details that added to the overall beauty, which even the rust stains and mildew of the sewers could not conceal. The prince could almost lose himself in the intricacy of the relief, if not for his purpose here.

As always, his narrow gold eyes picked out the images of Elves and fairies, trolls and brownies, even lesser fey whose names could not be given shape in human speech. The relief was similar to a hand-painted picture in the book of the creation of the races that he possessed, but was far more intricate than its smaller sibling. His white eyebrows drew together slightly as he tried once again to find a goblin amongst the frozen fey.

A subway rumbled above, shaking the den. He and Wink had long ago memorized the transit schedule, keeping track of hours and days with the gaseous passage of human-made trains.

It was almost time, but not quite.

He gave up on finding the goblins within the roots of the tree; no doubt he would see them eventually, and most likely when he was not looking for them. Nuada turned his wrist, languidly spinning the halfspear, then slashing it across his body to pierce an imaginary enemy to his left. The scar on his shoulder pulled, but it was expected for newly healed wounds. With time and exercise, he wouldn't even notice it any more. He flipped the spear about in his hand again, focusing on the heft in his palm and the rasp of the rayskin under his fingers as he turned away from the relief.

His thoughts were turned inward as he spun the halfspear again, slashing out on occasion in an attack pattern only half-aware. Thousands of years of exile and secrecy would end tonight. At first, months before, he had been content with merely retrieving the crown piece and restoring it to Elven hands. He had been content with convincing his father once more to war upon humanity; surely Balor, hidden in his decaying court, would understand once Nuada returned with tales of humanity's "virtues." He had been content with once again being the princeling who followed where the king led.

No more.

Too many failures in the past, too many losses and too many ill turns of fortune had hardened his heart to hope. It was a childish fantasy, to place his trust in his father. The king valued his peace too much, and he would never give it up unless compelled to do so. Tonight he would force his father's hand. It would be an open declaration of war.

His body left the ground as he lashed out at phantom enemies again, his body taut with controlled grace and power. Air whispered across his white skin as he ran and spun and flipped, revisiting his sky. He came down on one knee, slamming the pommel of the halfspear onto the stone floor and it sprouted in his hand to its full length.

Public, was the first thought he'd had when they changed the plan for tonight. Messy had been Wink's contribution. Though he turned and cut at the air with lethal speed, it would not be by his spear the first humans in the war would die. And, oddly, it had been the troll who had come up with the perfect idea. Unorthodox, dangerous and _very _messy, but perfect. He had thought briefly that his friend was jesting, but the humor in his friend was still buried under the fresh pain of losing his adopted daughter and the festering, never-healed loss of his son. Nuada almost couldn't wait to see the results.

Tooth fairies.

Simple and vicious, and capable of decimating the entirety of Manhattan once they got out. Water splashed up from his boots as he leaped up in a spin and landed, driving his spear down to cleave another phantom from skull to heel. Purchasing the illegal beasts had been far easier than he'd expected; Wink had remembered a chickcharney that sold them in San Francisco. The vendor had since moved his questionable wares to the troll market in New Jersey, but the troll had easily found him. The hardest part of their new plan had been commissioning the crates for their storage, and paying for the fairies. Bribing the vendor had been unnecessary; the chickcharney had taken one look at Nuada's expression and whispered his oath of silence.

Nuada whirled about, focusing on a single water droplet in the cascade that came back down and with a sharp slice, cut it in half. He halted his exercise, staring at the other drops falling into the water and the ripples they made in the puddle. Each ripple touched others, sometimes halting the motion, sometimes enhancing it. His father and sister would make ripples of their own, but they would not be able to alter the course of his actions.

The sense of no longer being alone intruded upon his thoughts. He flipped the spear around, its length a line of cold metal along the back of his arm as he turned back towards the relief. Another subway train, this one passing right behind him, shook the den harder. It was of little matter; he and Wink had no further need for this lair. His Elven eyes picked out the dark shape in a side tunnel, the hulking figure watching him silently. "How long have you been there, my friend?" he asked.

Wink's bristles lifted and fell as he shrugged. Nuada held the spear out, horizontally to the ground, and the metal haft tickled his skin as it collapsed in on itself. "They're over there," he added.

The troll glanced away and Nuada flipped the halfspear about to point at the crates. Locked and fitted with the Bethmoora clan sigil of war, they trembled upon the stone hearth. The rasping cacophony of a thousand tiny claws and chittering teeth were muffled within. "I bought them this morning," he commented, stepping over to the crates. "I haven't fed them... at all."

His dark lips curved in a mirthless smile. The humans would take care of feeding the new pets.

He rested the halfspear on his shoulder again, glancing up at the moonlight streaming in from the sewer cover above. "I will go up first; you will follow," he instructed. Wink nodded, the metal of his fist squeaking as he flexed the fingers. Several forays into Blackwood's had taught Nuada every detail of the interior, and the troll knew well which path he should take to most quickly rendezvous with the prince. Since they were declaring war and not sneaking within to steal back what was rightfully theirs, it mattered not who saw the troll, or who died soon after. They were only human, after all.

Nuada gave him only one last order, a statement phrased intentionally to pierce the troll's grief and feed the behemoth's anger. "And remember, Mr. Wink... don't be shy."

The echo of Orchid's teasing had the desired effect and the troll growled, the sound stretching up into a snarl echoing throughout the tunnels. Oh, yes, Balor's hand would be forced indeed. No more would any fey's weakness, not even Nuada's own, would stop the prince from waging his war and saving his world.

* * *

_Author's final note: _

_--An average of 2,185 children are reported missing each day.  
--Statistics show that the first three hours after disappearance are the most crucial for recovery.  
--Runaways represent the largest number of missing children cases each year, followed by family abductions, lost/injured/otherwise missing, and nonfamily kidnappings (wherein the child is at the greatest risk of injury or death)  
--One in six missing kids featured on mass-mailer postcards and through the efforts of other National Center for Missing and Exploited Children photo partners are recovered as a direct result of the photograph.  
--If you think you have seen a child reported as missing, call the NCMEC toll-free: 1-800-THE-LOST (1-800-843-5678). Would you rather make the call and be wrong, or not make the call and be right?_

_PS - Thank you all for reading and for such kind reviews; you've kept my inspiration going at a constant level and the magic that came from that is because of you. There is a sequel in the works.  
_


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